It’s 5 a.m. and I’m sitting here writing you. I’m up because the pain in my hips woke me. It’s pain from the chemo drugs.
Funny things happen this early in a suburban house. There’s a newborn daddy longlegs spider running across my keyboard (fresh hatch of the day?).
My cats lay on my desk looking at me, mystified. Why is the human up?
I try to text my friends, but no one texts back. (What’s wrong with them? Don’t they know I’m up?!)
And this morning’s crop of email is not especially interesting. I unsubscribe from much of it.
I flash back to 12 years ago, when I was also typically up by about 4:30 a.m. to work on writing my first book.
Back then I was hugely pregnant with my daughter. I was also tired and aching, and I had to be at my 9 to 5 job by 7 a.m. on-the-dot each morning.
Now here I am about to take that baby from 12 years ago, Lexi, to her first day of junior high three hours from now.
We stayed up in bed last night going through her classes, her schedule, which friends were in her classes, and importantly (but devastatingly), which “hot guys” were not.
And it got me thinking how life is a continuous craving of new experiences.Read More