While watching a recent episode on TNT's new show, Falling Skies, it is the main character's son's birthday. Under the new world order they find themselves in, a group of strangers finding him a cupcake, improvised candle, & old beaten up skateboard is nothing short of a small miracle. It's almost time to move on to safer ground, & as the son has a few minutes to ride his gift, the strangers all take that minute to collectively forget the hell they're living in & enjoy the pure joy on the kid's face. I find fibromyalgia (or any chronic pain illness) like that. Under this new world I find myself now not only living in it but also becoming the mayor of a tough gig. I didn't want this, don't remember signing up for the election, but I'm here. Surviving. Trying so hard to get through the night & face that cliched next morning. I have found that letting the little things-even so tiny that non-sick people wouldn't notice-I take those tiny things as a huge gift. I collectively try & let go, & watch myself soak in the moment.
The iTunes festival all month, which magically brings concerts to me
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