feeling sorry for everyone in the room and also everyone outside of it,
zoning out of the conversation to focus on my breathlessness and the aching.
The world went on, as it does, without my full participation, and I only woke up from the reverie when someone said my name.
It was Lida the Strong. Lida in remission. Blond, healthy, stout Lida, who swam on her high school swim team.
Lida, missing only her appendix, saying my name, saying, “Hazel is such an inspiration to me; she really is.
She just keeps fighting the battle, waking up every morning and going to war without complaint.
She’s so strong. She’s so much stronger than I am. I just wish I had her strength.”
“Hazel?” Patrick asked. “How does that make you feel?” I shrugged and looked over at Lida.
“I’ll give you my strength if I can have your remission.” I felt guilty as soon as I said it.
“I don’t think that’s what Lida meant,” Patrick said. “I think she...” But I’d stopped listening.
After the prayers for the living and the endless litany of the dead (with Michael tacked on to the end),
we held hands and said, “Living our best life today!”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색