In caregiver support group, someone says “I would like to sit longer with joy,” and my body responds with an instantaneous shower of chills.
There is an urgency to life right now. It feels like nothing can wait.
At dinner immediately after, I catch myself leaping out of my seat at soon as the last forkful of food has entered my mouth. I stop, sit back down, close my eyes, take a deep breath. More chills. I feel my gut unclench.
I did it again this morning at breakfast, jumping up like there’s a fire in the kitchen and I have to rush to put it out. But there’s no visible fire, just the slow, underground burn of his decline. Miles and miles of it stretching under everything.
But still.
I would like to sit longer with joy.