One thing is certain. There is no certainty in life. I should have learned that lesson back in 2013, when even my own body betrayed me. Still, I go on trusting that life will be reasonable, people will be worthy of my trust, and I will live happily ever after, despite the fact that this is never the case.
At the end of March, I moved back into my house, alone. I found a water leak in the pipes inside the walls that made it necessary to completely demolish both the guest bedroom and bathroom down to the studs and concrete. The rebuild is going very slowly, and yesterday the contractor’s appendix burst so everything is on hold until he recovers.
The demolition of the house mirrors my state of being. For the first time in my life, I try to navigate the world alone, without a partner. I feel stripped down to my studs and concrete, and there are days when the silence is deafening and the lack of human touch is crippling. Despite what everyone tells me to the contrary, there is no amount of work, friendship, or activity that can compensate for waking up every morning in the arms of someone I love.
Nonetheless, I fill most days with work, friends and activities, trusting that there is something bigger and better in store for me, that I will recognize it when it arrives, and that it will come sooner rather than later.
On Friday, I will have surgery to get my port removed. I am in good health, cancer-free, and no longer need it. I am ready for the next chapter. Go ahead, life. Pitch one to me. I have my mitt on.