The best of times

When I was in high school, people were always telling me that these were the best years of my life. I never believed them. I'm glad that I was right and they were wrong.
Here are some things I thought were fun and cool when I was a teenager:

• Being as loud and obnoxious as possible.
• Making everything more dramatic than it is.
• Drinking and talking about it so that everyone could hear.
• Skipping school or classes.
• Pretending to be stupid.
• Avoiding sleep unless it was day time
• Proclaiming that everything is stupid

Now when I look over this list, I'm astonished about a few things. First of all, that these things could have ever seemed cool or fun. Second, that these things not only seemed cool to me but are practically the cool list for all teens. Third, that others could actually believe that a time like this could be the best I would have.

Many people keep reliving their teenage years and dread aging. I am not one of those people. Each year of my life I learn to accept myself and appreciate being me. I am free to enjoy the uncool things.

Here are some things that I am free to enjoy now that I don't have to worry about whether or not I'm cool:

• Reading
• Writing
• Arithmetic (Ok, that one is just a joke =D)
• Gardening
• Decorating
• Having coffee with friends
• Learning new things
• Spending time with family
• Appreciating babies and children

Most people now tell me that my enjoyment of aging will stop once I get old enough. I think they're wrong too but we'll see. ; )

Buster

Buster
Watching his chest move up and down knowing that each time could be the last time it raises. Feeling a mixture of guilt, odd curiousity, and sadness. Guilty because I hope that each breath was the last one. Just pass on and let go. End the pain and the suffering. The odd curiousity forces me to stare because the sickness has affected your entire body. Weighing only 98 lbs because the cancer has eaten away the rest. Skin sags from the bones in your arm and I wonder how there are any muscles left to lift it but you keep waving. His face has sunken in and I can barely remember what it once looked like. How can this skeleton have once been a person? The sheet is held up by your rib bones and sinks in the valley that once was your stomach. He hasn't walked in weeks or maybe even months because his feet have begun to rot. Blackened arches and toes surrounded by thick layers of flaking skin. Did the cancer cause that or is it because you've been unable to take care of yourself for so long? Bittersweet sadness when he's waving but doesn't know where he is or who we are. His smile lights up the room now but the pain should not have gone on this long. I'm not sure who the morphine is helping more - us or him. Thinking back to the person of many years ago before his own bitterness took hold; It's hard to remember but if I try really hard I can see the lawnmower in the back of your truck and we're headed to White Castle.

I wrote this blog during a tough time in my life. I did not write it because I hoped to garner sympathy, but because I thought it might be of some comfort to someone facing a similar experience.