What matters. . .
[ 12.19.17.10.02 ]
I was laying on the trampoline underneath the stars. Lil mischief was purring near my feet. I smiled at the code in my editor as I paused for a moment to just breathe. All consumed with my work has become my usual state of mind lately. No writings, no musings, not even the occasional video games. Just line after line of code as I juggle the 5 projects that I have been working on all at once for 3 different companies. I allowed myself that brief pause as I waited for the command "service httpd configtest" to respond with either 'Ok' or '[Error]'. It responded with the former. My fingers itched a bit as I typed out the restart command and entered the passphrase for the SSL-key. Tada! At last, my project list was down to 4 and cash would be in the bank in the morning. Then came my mothers voice in the darkness and my happy moment was ended.
"She has an inoperable tumor on her brainstem."
Time stopped for a moment as I closed my laptop dousing the illumination that had surrounded me in the growing darkness of dusk. I looked up into the heavens above and just enjoyed the view of the stars as I listened to her speak. My beloved sister was heading on to the next level. She had only just gotten herself engaged to a wonderful man. After spending countless years with an asshole. Then this. My milestone deadlines in the morning suddenly did not have the influence they had had on me only moments before. Jumping off the trampoline onto the picnic table, I stepped into my shoes and we were off.
We drove in silence most of the way. The radio was off, the ipod stayed in my pocket. We were greeted in the yard by my niece and two of her friends. We exchanged hugs and I took an adorable photo of her straddled upon her mothers motorcycle in the driveway. Then we went in. Her skin was yellowed and pasty. We stood and just held each other. Words seemed trivial and meaningless. I kissed her on the top of her head feeling her hair on my face. Not wanting to share the thought of how the chemotherapy may soon take that away. After awhile her and my mother disappeared into the bedroom to talk. I went out into the backyard and sat underneath the stars. . .
I was laying on the trampoline underneath the stars. Lil mischief was purring near my feet. I smiled at the code in my editor as I paused for a moment to just breathe. All consumed with my work has become my usual state of mind lately. No writings, no musings, not even the occasional video games. Just line after line of code as I juggle the 5 projects that I have been working on all at once for 3 different companies. I allowed myself that brief pause as I waited for the command "service httpd configtest" to respond with either 'Ok' or '[Error]'. It responded with the former. My fingers itched a bit as I typed out the restart command and entered the passphrase for the SSL-key. Tada! At last, my project list was down to 4 and cash would be in the bank in the morning. Then came my mothers voice in the darkness and my happy moment was ended.
"She has an inoperable tumor on her brainstem."
Time stopped for a moment as I closed my laptop dousing the illumination that had surrounded me in the growing darkness of dusk. I looked up into the heavens above and just enjoyed the view of the stars as I listened to her speak. My beloved sister was heading on to the next level. She had only just gotten herself engaged to a wonderful man. After spending countless years with an asshole. Then this. My milestone deadlines in the morning suddenly did not have the influence they had had on me only moments before. Jumping off the trampoline onto the picnic table, I stepped into my shoes and we were off.
We drove in silence most of the way. The radio was off, the ipod stayed in my pocket. We were greeted in the yard by my niece and two of her friends. We exchanged hugs and I took an adorable photo of her straddled upon her mothers motorcycle in the driveway. Then we went in. Her skin was yellowed and pasty. We stood and just held each other. Words seemed trivial and meaningless. I kissed her on the top of her head feeling her hair on my face. Not wanting to share the thought of how the chemotherapy may soon take that away. After awhile her and my mother disappeared into the bedroom to talk. I went out into the backyard and sat underneath the stars. . .