BREATH WILL COME in Postcards 4

Each time I wake up from another test, I feel as if I am going to live forever. I know there are more long train trips ahead, there are paintings to be hung, and there are quilts just waiting for the touch of my machine. There’s life in me again.

In a way, the decision to install a stair lift up those endless back stairs solidifies our decision to stay here in this ugly townhouse. We do not want to move away from the coolness at the beach to another state, and the rent here is something we can afford. Rents in this area are running about $3,000 a month. That’s beyond our fragile budget. Small thinking, if we stay here we do not have to get rid of any more books or art. Yes, there’s life in me again.

I found myself sitting in the living room just enjoying the view yesterday. The straight books, the green leaves on the trees through the windows, the wonderful blue-purple color of the flowers on the end table. I can’t just jump up and do things yet as I can’t catch my breath. But breath will come.
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• Himself: Friday we have appointments with the Social Security folks. Got a mountain of small errands done yesterday.


• Myself: Little fluid remaining. It was not painless. Finished the new Penny, and gone back to read an older one.


• Photo: Japanese/American Museum in Little Tokyo; 2011, one of the shacks from Manzanar. (Nowhere can I find a list of the contents of the museum, so I’m guessing that these tar paper shacks are from Manzanar.)


• Gratitude’s: George.