Concentrate
I’ve been thinking about my childhood a lot these past few months. Sometimes my thoughts and memories are really vivid – like that time I fell on the road outside our house and cut both my knees and hands. I dragged myself up and began to cry only to be told, nicely, by a neighbouring Dad, Mr. Quigley, that it would ‘toughen me up’. I believed him immediately and decided to stop crying (must have been 5 or 6 yrs-old I guess). Other times I think more abstractly about the sheer volume of living we all do. I think about the millions of moments that make up our lives. I remember that really nice feeling of catching yourself being content. I think about the role my parents played in my childhood. But mostly, I think about the role I’m now playing in my children’s lives. “We’re very lucky”, my lovely wife and I agreed recently. Don’t worry, we both got the irony of us expressing that, but right now we have three really special reasons to be grateful. That gratitude and the love we share, combined with the reality of dealing with the aggressive treatment of Sarah’s cancer, has given our lives a very intense quality. The future is uncertain and the present feels concentrated. Every day feels a little loaded. But we both know that there will be less intense times ahead for us all and that, whatever happens, everything will be alright.
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