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Wednesday, December 10, 2003 |
Days, Maybe Hours
Cancer knocks at the door one day, out of the blue, with a new and all together different product. It's called The Future, and what once was vague and undefined is now crystal-clear and sharp, if ephemeral. Cancer is the salesman for mortality.
Pneumonia closes the deal.
Where I will be tomorrow is a question. Maybe here, maybe there. There are variables and schedules and lots of complications. There are other things to consider.
"I don't know what you'll find," my sister said a few minutes ago on the phone. Which can be said of any new day, of course, and any future. I just have more information about this particular one.
And I have the strangest sense that I have a promise to keep, and that I made it a very long time ago.
12:21:38 PM 
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© Copyright 2004 Chuck Sigars.
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