When your parent tells you that they are in the process of hitting bottom, I think you age ten years. The reality sets in that no one is perfect, and mistakes can be made in an instant; our worlds are easily altered. It has recently dawned on me just how fragile life really is. One decision, one mistake, one set of values or one missed connection can alter you forever, and no one has control over the way their fate plays out. Most of the time, the concept of living- not dying- is disconcerting.
When I find myself enjoying life, I’ve noticed that I tend to become more cautious of danger (whether it be fast moving cars in a busy intersection or the thought of falling down a set of stairs). And I don’t usually think this way; as much as I hate disease and illness, I don’t fear those things because I am afraid of death (at least I think). I would like to think that if faced with it, I would tackle death courageously. Lately though, I am more interested in living.
