When I was a kid, my best friend and I would go on epic walks. Or as we called them, "Great Adventures." We never went anywhere special. Just roamed the neighborhood, hung out on dirt piles and around the bulldozed and plateaued areas where expensive housing was to be developed near French Middle School.
Despite the fact that these "adventures" were merely glorified 2 hour walks, we had a ritual of preparation. We would take literally all afternoon stuffing our backpacks full of the things that we were sure we would need to survive. A variety of snacks and drinks, toilet paper, pens and paper. Probably a few changes of clothes. It was strange, but so were we.
I remembered this today because I feel myself preparing again. Trying to put everything in order before I'm too sick and confused to deal with it. People to call, to meet up with. There are so many friends and family members that I want to see so that they can hold this image of me in their heads. Smiling, looking healthy. I feel myself pushing the people I love away and then pulling them back. How do you prepare the people around you for something that you yourself aren't even prepared for? I guess I'm trying to figure that out.
I'm sitting on train tracks, watching a bright light come nearer, and I can't move. That train will hit me on January 3rd, and I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be sick again.
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