Being a Realist

I’m still so shaken up about Gabby’s passing.  It was with foolish optimism that I assumed I had years to lazily find the right time to visit her.  I thought that I would fit it in the next time I’m somewhere around British Columbia. This optimism is no longer with me.

I’m not a pessimist, but I’m simply becoming more of a realist.  Isn’t being a realist a part of growing up?  I used to be one of those annoying 20-somethings with a bright smile on my face.  I used to preach about the fact that PMS was invented by lazy cranky women.  I thought that sleep was overrated and that I can sleep when I’m dead.  I also used to preach about how simple it was to shape your own destiny.  I felt that the world conspired to make my dreams come true.  I must have read that bullshit somewhere.  But I drank the Kool-Aid.  I remember bouncing out of bed in the mornings like a puppy dog, panting, salivating, excited to start my day, because I loved every part of my day.  Cringe… I think I remember saying things like, “Life can’t get any better than this.  My cup is already overflowing.”  It’s easy to be this sunny when you’re young and shit hasn’t happened yet.   

After we received Niko’s diagnosis, I gave myself a hard time for not being more chipper.  I felt guilty for not being hopeful and thankful.  But that’s just not me anymore.  And I’m ok with that.  I’m not the innocent, energetic, slightly delusional young woman anymore.  I don’t look at the world from the view of half empty, or half full.  I simply see the glass as it as.  I see the surface of the fluid at that precise level of the glass.  I’m more concern about the type of fluid and what I should do with it.  If it’s water, I’ll drink it.  If it’s Grand Cru Burgundy, I’ll give it to my husband.  If it’s Pellegrino, I’ll zone out for a while staring at the rising and bursting of the bubbles and then I’ll drink it.           

So with Niko, I’m taking things day by day.  I’m ok with a cup that isn’t overflowing.  I’m not looking at things as half full or half empty.  I’m looking at the water’s surface, trying to enjoy just floating on that surface, while at the same time, trying not to drown.     

While in Kauai last week, I met this Monk Seal.  He was exhausted from being out in the ocean.  I watched him bop along the surface of the water until it guided him to a peaceful rest on the beach.