The Ride

Jilda had a treatment today. When they called her back, I walked across to the cafeteria which is in another building and ordered a cup of coffee.
I got a table in the back corner, pulled out my laptop, my noise canceling earphones, and some random notes. Writing my columns does not involve rituals, but it does involve some deep thought and an unseen connection to the all-knowing consciousness.
After a few minutes, I latched onto an idea and soon it was written. I used the seeds of a blog post, as I often do, to get me started.
I smiled as I re-read the draft and snapped my Macbook closed. I sipped the dregs of my coffee, which had gotten cold and watched people come and go. There are so many stories.
After a while, I walked back across to the treatment room. She was talking to our friend Marcia, a nurse at the hospital, who'd spent her lunch hour with Jilda.
The room had thinned out by the time I arrived and the only ones still there were the ones getting the serious stuff.
As I looked around at the faces, I tried to imagine their stories. Illness does not discriminate.  Today it was obvious there were people of means sitting in those green chairs. But but the last time we were there, we were with people who had little. Today most of the faces were white, but last time they were mostly dark.
Regardless of clothes or color, the eyes tell the story. Fear is something you cannot hide. You can almost tell who will be living a year from now, and who will pass on before Christmas.
.....I said all of that to say this: take not one second for granted. Life is a gift, and you owe it to yourself and you family to live the life you were put here to live.
There is no such thing as a free pass. We all pay the toll, and we all take the ride.