The Narrative To Come

 “Narrative is one of the best intoxicants or tranquilizers.” ― S. Byatt, Still Life

I imagine most, if not all of us, have stories we tell ourselves, songs we listen to, something that makes our inner self release what we want to come out. Maybe it's right, maybe it's wrong, maybe it's neither but life with a better flow makes a little sense. 

People have said about this blog, or my speeches or even work presentations that I'm good at narrative. I may just be doing awake what we all do at night, writing a story that connects the randomly received to the remembered reality. But here I am again, reflecting on one more year of cancer. Remember, remember the 5th of November, 13 into them, 12 anniversaries where the damage in my brain is relegated to still being secondary to life. 

I celebrate it or acknowledge it in someway every year, every year. That is more times than I have acknowledged my birthday in the entirety of my life and if it makes will surpass the wedding anniversaries I've celebrated despite being married twice. This year, acknowledging that some people you adore and appreciate deserve quality level stuff, I had a "what ages well" themed celebration Saturday night asking people to bring fine wine (even throughout the dare that whoever brought one from the same year I was diagnosed got extra points). 

There were more bottles brought than drank but early on, someone brought one called Austin Hope and as they did they asked me to make a toast. It was off the cuff and I don't remember it all but it started with a joke about how I often get paid to speak and they weren't paying enough for me going very long. I shared the appreciation of those in the area and those not there and I finished remembering that almost to the minute 12 years ago I was being admitted to a hospital and because I had shared that I had something going on in my brain, good friends were coming into the room. When others showed, the nurses asked them "Are you here for the party room?" and pointed them the right way. 12 years later, the party goes on! Who can't say cheers to that?

It was low key, talking to old and new friends from the one who helped raise money to get me to brain surgery, to the one who ran with me outside the hospital and helped keep me safe in the marathon I put off brain surgery for (they just had a baby!), to the one who flew me back from Duke to different ones along the way, most more established friendship but some brand new ones to though those I could count on one hand; this was a more established relationship invitation primarily. Even Kiana realized how important it was because while she was supposed to be at her mom's for the weekend she was there for it. 

We broke in the newly built patio (the previous one rotted) and it was the first real gathering since pre pandemic with roughly as many years as I've been alive people coming through and going. At the end of the night we had finished exactly 12 bottles of wine, some light, some dark, some blends, one non alcoholic. Speaking of good stories that seemed like a good parallel to the last dozen years. 

It would be dishonest to say that between year 11 and 12 was not by far the suckiest time of my life ever and well... that's saying something. But it took a little bit of fire and hope to realize that even during the rough times, I want s'more. 

The next day I ran a 10 mile race that I once ran by myself in under 60 minutes, that I once ran with Kiana in a stroller in 63 minutes and that I ran next to Kiana in about 75. The muscles are worn and tired these days and still have unexplained deficiencies. I barely beat Kiana's time. But at the finish line and now, I realized that while it may be what got the world's attention, my speed was a release point not the point itself. The playlist I have made for the last few races have had different music and it was as I cheered friends in that I realized the angry songs don't make my playlist anymore. There's no more Eminem. They are still up beat and rhythmic but I don't have much anger left in me. I'm not sure, despite my damaged memory, I even completely recall what I was so angry at and why that needed to be absorbed through shock on concrete and pavement. There was a point late in the race when I knew that my competitive spirit it at least not what it used to be if not entirely gone when a woman in a stroller past me about 3/4 past the race and I was more proud of her than I was ashamed of me (but both were true for the record). 

But focusing too much on the past was never my style no matter how good or bad so I ran and finished and smiled. And I cheered people in and I loved that I am still part of this community and part of the run of it. 

I don't know what life holds next but that's always been true and the guessing game of just reading this blog shows you that it's about as reliable as Texas weather reports. I may be true to my word but there's other people and circumstances that I wouldn't have ever ever guessed. 

It's Election Day as I write this. In this representative democracy where we each should do our own part and really all do whether it's passive or active, make a choice in what comes next. But I'm going to keep focusing a lot on today and plenty on tomorrow and even on the nights that end harshly, I'm going to be thankful for each day, challenge myself and those I love to make tomorrow a little better in its own way. Perhaps, with that, there will be a dozen or more 5ths of November and days to make choices and the narrative to come will be not a perfect but a great experience.