When it's been 217 days. When it's been 217 days of being hurt, of being surrounded by pain, of being smacked in the face with health issue after issue... it can be hard to remember your life outside of your sickness or your injury. But, you have to. Because every one of us is surrounded by little kids and fried chicken and music that brings back memories and kind people. People will come up to me. People I know well or people I don't even like, and it can be hard to separate between average politeness and it's-only-because-you-are-in-a-chair-or-hurt. But, sometimes it is easy. An old student of my moms', now going through med school, stopped and said hello. I expected the usual hi and go, but he sat down. He did something that doesn't come around much for me anymore: he talked to me like I'm a normal person. I don't mean in the way kids want to be treated like adults. I mean, my injury came up, but he was thinking about becoming an orthopedic surgeon! There is just no end to the comments there! Except, he asked more about my recovery and other things like my writing. It felt friendly and I'm thankful for that moment in my day. I keep lists of things that I am, every day, grateful for. Little good things. And one thing always on my mind are the acts of kindness from other people. Someone seeing me and saying hello can easily make my day.
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Who Am I?Hi there! I'm Whit, my pronouns are they/them, and I write a lot.
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Painting by Whit Acrylics on masonite April 20th, 2019 Words are a Quaker saying. George Fox? |