There’s a light in the darkness, though the night is black as my skin; there’s a light burning bright, showing me the way, but I know where I’ve been – Hairspray
Nine days ago, I sat in a crowded oncology office,
The patient in front of me took longer than usual. He was young, tired, gray.
I knew that look.
Do I look sick? I said to David.
I messaged a friend who was also waiting. Waiting for specialist results. Waiting for answers. Waiting to know if there was a big reason why all these little things wouldn’t seem to go away.
They’d not heard anything yet.
An hour later, the doctor called for me. Here we go, I thought.
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. – Helen Keller
Some days, I just don’t know what I’d do without my friends.
Well, maybe I do. Maybe I don’t want to think about it. Maybe I don’t want you guys to know that. Maybe there’s a tiny part of us that is unfit for any other human to know, see, or understand,
even those we trust the most.
I firmly believe in the power of community.
Nothing hard is conquered in isolation. Nothing painful is endured so well as within a safe community.
But even the safest community can be – at times – dangerous.
Last weekend a friend told me about some people she knew who took two years off their North American dream and worked in Saudi Arabia.
They came home and retired on the savings.
I love British Columbia. I love Vancouver. I even love (most of) Vancouver’s suburbs. But it is insanely expensive to live here. The ability to do what these people did – to live with little to no financial stress – is wildly appealing.
Except I wouldn’t do so well in Saudi Arabia.