mihi vita est miraculum.

During the day, I was visited every hour. A nurse for every year. A rub of alcohol and a bit of saline twice as often. There were the IVs. The shots.
I was reminded of my grandmother’s needle cushions watching the breaking surface of my skin. The nurses always asked, “Do you want to try it?”/ “I don’t think I could.”

My existence was burrowed; every drive looking back in that rear-view window and seeing a ghost staring back. Terrified. 

How do I say to her / “You learn to drive a car. You survive. You are me.”

Driving down backroads, watching trees lose their leaves. 

My life is a miracle. Gazing into the night sky above and seeing every way and reason and reality where this is not who I became. “I know you’re scared. I was, too. / Wait until you look up at the stars when they are just beneath your fingertips. / They shine twice as bright. The supernova could be tomorrow; they are never under the illusion that their beautiful light could glow forever. They know that it is all temporary. Temporary. / They do not worry about fear.” /

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