One Quotable Phrase: Hurdles.
I have mixed feelings about coming home. Although this relentless helplessness has dissipated, I still desire a friend I can confide in. I am not close to anyone in the ways I’m close to my family in Florida. I feel myself growing, and I am filled with joy. However, I have no one to give my love…
Once upon a time, I was waiting for my ice cream on a sidewalk. If you wonder, it was indeed delicious. The ice cream, not the sidewalk.
Three
It wasn’t very long ago that you were just a bump in your mother’s stomach. You didn’t seem real back then, not even when you took up her entire belly. It wasn’t until I heard a faint cackle from the opposite end of an operating table that anything ever clicked in the universe.
Boy, how far the two of us drifted apart, your mother and I, over the years. I don’t regret anything with her because you’re here. I regret a lot of the ways I treated her, I regret being so painfully typical as a teenager. But such is life, and I want you to always know this, that the things you do wrong in life will end up teaching you more than anything else. You can’t dwell on them, though. All you can really do is learn from your experiences, and that really is okay. I promise you it is.
I never in my life could have pictured being part of something so beautiful. Every time I see you I am just so proud. I don’t understand a lot of things in this world. I’m not sure of much. But you are my favorite person on this planet, and I love you a lot. I am sure of that.I’m really excited to see you today, girl, and I’m lucky to be your dad.
(Source: gogoporen)
Volunteer work.
She was trapped in a dying body. And me looking into her eyes couldn’t change that. I have known her for … what, three days? No, less. A few dozen hours actually. And that was basically it: she was dying.
“You’re sweet”, she murmured an enormous smile on her face, “But you don’t have to stay.” She would quickly shift from a slightly dramatic state to a talkative mood. She was holding my right hand with both of hers.
“What are you reading?” – I picked the book up so she could see its cover – “Tolstoy! Good writer. A true Christian too.” Her fingers were slightly moving, miming a caressing stroke, but only capable of scratching my skin. She had left the perfusion on.
“Have you prayed today?” I looked into her eyes, simply not knowing what to say. I was so far away from her god.
“Will you read me a prayer?” She barely moved her head, pointing at a book on her table. As I took it, she closed her eyes. I was afraid to read. Why read when I was being nothing but a fraud?
She tightened her grip around my hands. I saw her mouth corners quiver as I aimlessly guided her through the comforting poem. When she opened her eyes, they seemed to be made of glass.
“It’s all for the better, right?” What could I have said? I remained silent.
“Thank you, thank …” But she started coughing. Releasing my hands slowly, a hint of content in her convulsing features, she pressed that red button next to her hip.
“Thank you! You’ll come by tomorrow, won’t you? Sweetheart, thank you!”
The next day I went to her bed. She was however two levels below, where they pumped formol into her pelvic artery. She had thanked me, but for what?
Another she was lying in her bed. She was dying too. I read her a prayer. That was all that I could do.
