Roads Left in Both of Our Shoes

I'm better. Still sore... but I'm Better. Completely. That pain is gone. Completely gone. I'm crying. Not full-out weeping, but tears running down my cheeks with the overwhelming happiness of feeling this way again. Almost forgot. So many times I worried that whatever was wrong with me was really bad, maybe only to get worse and worse. But it didn't. I got better. After two years, a one-hour surgery made me better. Still in disbelief, I'm seeing life through different eyes. It's new, just began over the past few days.

Laying in bed over the past couple of days, I have been thinking a lot. Mostly about all the things I'll be able to do again. I want to run again. I used to run a lot. Three, four times a week for 45 minutes or even an hour-and-a-half... if I was feeling really strong. Tying up my New Balances, great music on my MP3 player, I hit the pavement and ran laps and laps around my apartment complex. The Ex wasn't into it and I had no friends who lived close enough to join me with any regularity. I always really wanted a running partner.

I've lived in Arizona for over a year, and I've never hiked here. I used to hike all the time. Never gone out driving without a destination in mind. Just exploring. Sadie and Uncle Reptile got their apartment in July, and I've never even been there. They probably have new snakes that will scare the shit out of me. I want to go to the Grand Canyon. Can't remember the last time I picked up Daughter. She's ten now, I hope I can still pick her up. I'm going to try as soon as this residual soreness is gone. I'm going to try until I get her all the way up with her arms around my neck and I'll kiss her eyelashes.

I looked around the apartment today, realizing that since moving in, I have not done one load of laundry. Rarely made dinner. Never done the dishes. Haven't cleaned the bathroom. I might have made the bed once, but just because I was trying to get lucky. I sit in bed and food and clean clothes and fed cats and cold bottles of Propel all find their way to me. Boyfriend does it all. And he's just as sick as I was. Almost never say thank you. I realize he does everything, but rarely recognize it. Boyfriend is constantly in action, going to doctors, picking Daughter up from school, picking up after Daughter, picking up after me... He emptied and filled my ice bag every three hours. He talked to two nurse-neighbors to get advice on how to best ease my recovery after the surgery. Made sure I took my medicine. Asks me how I'm feeling. Brought me flowers. Helps me stand.

For the first few days after surgery, any little movement hurt. Boyfriend slept next to me on the floor so that I wouldn't hurt if he twitched in his sleep. I didn't think much of it. I didn't ask him why he was sleeping on the floor until after he had done it for three or four days. I take Boyfriend for granted, and he deserves more than that. He spends so much time thinking about how to make me feel happy, loved and understood... I want to learn how to show love better. I love so much, I feel it falling out of me. But fear it's sometimes invisible. I've gotten through too many hard times by not let anything hit too deep. Sarcasm and irreverant distance provide a safe haven. Turns out I'm not so good at expressing sappy feelings. I feel these amazing things, but don't know how to show them. I'm going to work on that now that I'm better.

Tonight, I laid in bed with Daughter and we talked and talked and then she fell asleep. We used to do that every night when she was younger. One of the most amazing things you can do in life is laugh with a child and then watch them fall asleep. Over the past couple of years, I've mostly just given Daughter a kiss and said goodnight before going back to bed and my heating pad. I miss her. So much. More than anything, being sick has stolen the quality of my time with Daughter. I tire easy, and don't have the energy to keep up. She runs circles around me, and I just watch. Sometimes I don't even do that. I want to run with her. She has told me so many times over the past months that she wishes I would get better; it's been so hard on her. So hard. I remember having a sick parent, it's terrible.

Daughter joined the track team a couple months ago. She came in fifth out of seventy-five at her last meet. She wants to be my running partner. We're going to run together. Run to something more.