An Homage to a Pneumothorax

Life has been going pretty fast for me without much time to think. I used to stare up at the ceiling tiles at my old job, I don't have time for that or the daily walks through the (ugly) industrial park. It's all work and school, and it's a bit overwhelming all without a moment to catch ones breath.

Well, life has the good humor to take that away from you in a moment. I hate to be melodramatic when I write because it comes out so cheesy, but what happened on Friday afternoon was my left lung collapsed just walking around at work. The funny thing about breathing is that you rarely think about it except when it doesn't come easy. I suppose it was a good weekend for sitting and doing absolutely nothing. It was rainy and cloudy and fall just rolled into town with a thunderstorm. It's my favorite time of year, and I'd hate to miss it being in a rush. At this point, it's guaranteed that I won't be going anywhere fast for the next couple weeks.

Early to bed on a Saturday, early up on Sunday. I spent the afternoon reading for class and sipping tea with some candles illuminating the coffee table--it seemed only appropriate. Right now, some of my tomatoes are slow-roasting with garlic and time in the oven. The apartment smells divine. The tomatoes will be plump with syrupy juice ready to burst. And I've got a moment to sit. To sit and think about things like breathing even when it hurts. And cooking even when things don't turn out right. And loving when it's scary and finite. And starting things you may not be able to finish. But this time I don't think I can breathe/cook/love/start.