Today I was working on a project and needed to put down estimated dates of completion. I was slightly horrified to realize that it is going to be May in two days and I don’t seem to remember much of April. (Or even March for that matter; if it wasn’t for SXSW, I don’t think I would have much recollection of March either…)
This makes me sad, in a weird way. Having gotten a second chance when my cancer was discovered and removed before it spread to Stage 3, you would think I would cherish every day as if it was a precious gift – which it is. But in the mundane existence of work, random obligations, hanging with friends – the days seem to blur together in my mind. And I’m not OK with this. I want to feel as if every day is a new present for me.
How do I make the hours slow down so I can savor the gorgeously sunny day outside? How do I cherish those moments of laying in bed reading while the cat snuggles against my legs? How do I stop myself on a Monday from wishing it was closer to the end of the week – not realizing that I’m wishing days of my life away?
What if on my next appointment with the dermatologist she says, “there’s another spot we need to take a look at”? I remember those days of waiting for the phone call with the results were some of the longest of my life. How do I get that feeling of endless hours when there is something wonderful happening to me instead? What if I knew my days were numbered? Would that change the way that I seem to be blasting through the weeks with barely a flicker of recognition of what happened during that time? It’s stupid, because my days ARE numbered. So are yours, so is everyone else on this planet. So why can’t I seem to remember that during the “ordinary” times and treasure everyday?