Out in the world after the storm I am dumbfounded by the calm. I am blinking and blindsided. I am trying to trace my steps. What was it again I earnestly believed was so important – like trying to scrub out a stain and realizing it’s part of the pattern, like looking for something everywhere except on my own body – that rush of exhausted relief, the swell of laughter crashing in.
I am checking my pulse for a rhythm, a song I can make up the words to if I tried. I am looking for signs of life.
This year I respond to almost every greeting by telling them I love them. Mostly it is true. Sometimes it is not enough.
When I blow out the candle I cheat the system and make more than one wish. It’s not greed as much as hope.
I ask myself, again and again, if I still feel lucky to be here. It’s ridiculous that the answer hasn’t changed yet. I know this verse by heart. The answer is always yes.