Twenty nineteen has been one of passing the baton from what was to what is; from what has been to what might be. Twenty nineteen has been a relay that I chose to run alone, in circles around a track that is familiar and worn by the steps I have taken over and over and over again.
In keeping, I set my laps by relapses, and my intervals by the time and distance between Swenny’s last and next drinks. The pace has become unrelenting, though, without consideration for cirrhosis and its complications or forgiveness for the false starts from which I have leaned away. And into a race I can’t finish.
Because I didn’t cause it. I can’t control it. I can’t cure it.
But I can start over. As one runner on one lap. May it be long. May it be happy.
It’s time to begin, isn’t it? ~ Imagine Dragons