Yesterday, though thankfully a Sunday rather than a Friday, June 13th, marked the seven year anniversary of the day that my life turned completely on its head. The point of no return, if you will. So, rather than wallow in pity, I went out and got myself a mini individual sized cake to celebrate 3/4ths of a decade not dying...as one does.
However, this particular year was...interesting.
Why? Oh, no reason, and thankfully not directly involving me. Just that I saw my poor brother lying on a sidewalk with an oxygen of 69% turning purple and shaking before being taken to hospital by ambulance the night before at dinner, and had to spend the night with family friends. That is a mental image I will not soon forget, if I in fact ever forget it. All unfortunate circumstances aside, I did end up having a nice time with said family friends after being whisked away from the scene as soon as the emergency vehicles departed. We had a midnight pizza party and split some ice cream as we had no time to anybody eat a piece of their meal at the restaurant.
The following day, yesterday, it was a nice distraction to what I associate with June 13th. We had a lovely brunch in Harvard Square after walking the dog (who I must admit, was not fond of me. COVID era dogs with major anxiety of people coming into the space, what can you do?) which was delicious, walked around, and took a nice shady walk along memorial drive which is closed to cars on Sundays to go back to the car.
While there remain to be (rather severe) problems, and I am still in a state of relapse which is quite unfortunate, this year, I think, was one of the better ways to spend June 13th.
Here's to many more anniversaries of not dying in the years to come.
Until next time,
Max
No comments:
Post a Comment