Three hundred and sixty-six days ago I almost died while sitting in a parking lot and trying to decide if I should try to get up to go in and collect the pizza we had ordered.
My heart was jackknifing from 20 beats per minute to 200.
The EMT saved my life.
A few weeks later, wires pushed through a vein burned the circuit in my heart that had almost ended it and me.
In that rescued year I’ve seen another spring migration and birds filling our trees and feeders. I’ve been graced with more hours in fields walking our dogs, and several more weeks in Maine and a seascape that entrances me.
Our. My wife. Us. I spent a year giving thanks for P, for our, for us.
I’ve had another year at the Bookstore, a 7-year gift now beginning year 8 that I never expected in the first place, and another year with my brother and sister and friends and books and light and sky, and another year knowing it is going to all come to a full stop, no more luck, that’s it folks finish, but not right now, thank you, yes, thank you, and please sir, another year after I learned again how to be grateful.
