January 2014

Sometimes I forget what my closest friend tells me: that you can omit personal details. But what's a friend without being an open book? I write sometimes as if it were my personal journal. And when love tells me it cares it reminds me of memories I prefer to avoid. Leading into the new year was rough. The all so real $16,000 hospital bill for a night in the Emergency Room and two nights in a three patient room was funny when I forgot to hand them my health insurance, lab tests, a scan and some medicine, those blood suckers. This is why America is broke when people can't pay their medical bills or America suffers when one has no medical insurance. Couple weeks out and I'm hit hard again. Emotionally down and as I lay there about to pass out thinking I was dying, I thought of my life and all the warm things, then smiled. A little girl I helped raise that I'm not sure she'll remember my name, but for the better and an older one with a dream, that is my dream in reach but far away. I open my eyes, a month later, and get up, recovered, like a good soldier, I have responsibilities and a mission to finish. One more round, a little more wounded, one more smile. I reminisce of better Sweet November days but it's February.