For the past three years I have had the bad habit of getting some fresh air late at night. The reason why this is a bad habit is because I don’t live in the safest area. It started with walking; I would walk for hours just up and down Magnolia. Then it went to jogging and sometimes running. Now I am truly enjoying biking the small stretch of Magnolia from Adams Street to Monroe. The path has stayed the same and so has the temperature. Each season of fresh air has brought a different series of thought. The walking was riddled with thoughts of worry (when I thought I might have been very ill) it turned out to be a super thyroid. The running dealt directly with my sick niece. I would run and pray, run and pray, run and pray. I was so worried about her little body, I would just run and cry and beg God not to take her from this earth. This happened to be the first time I cried out to God asking him “why” with a tone of confusion and uncertainty about his motives. I am now into biking, I don’t worry so much anymore I just ride in awe of who God is. I praise God for a sick baby in September of 2005. I thank Him every day for the illness that caused Koren and Conor to make an emergency trip home. This would be the last time Koren and Conor would see my dad healthy. My dad was able to take his grandson sailing, he even let him steer the ship. Emma was able to climb up in the arms of her grandpa and be held by a body that wasn’t ravaged by chemo.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
woke up at 130am took a three hour bus ride, arrived at a port that smelled like ten years of rotting tuna and diesel fumes, boarded the boat with a killer nauseating headache, threw up repeatedly for twelve hours, got fish guts on my favorite diesel jeans, stabbed myself in the chest with the safety pin on my fishing license, caught nothing but a slap in the face by a wave as i was hurling my breakfast over the side and to this day i wonder "how could i have been aware that this would be the best fishing trip i would ever go on?"