Today I was sick again. My body had chills and fever and my chest was full ungodliness. I used to be a sickly child, my mom said. I didn’t go to kindergarden because I would get sick so often, so instead I stayed home alone or with my grandmother. Yes, sometimes I was left alone when I was six years old. I have memories of wandering around our apartment in Vinnetza, Ukraine. I would sit on the window sill for hours and watch people. I studied their faces, their moods, what they were wearing and who they were walking with.
I remember, on my sick days, my mom getting me tea and checking on me. I laid quietly in my bed or on the living room couch, so I could watch TV.
Today was another reminder of that time, but there was no one to take care of me except for myself. That’s the cruel lesson of life. In the beginning, you are sheltered by your parents but then, you are just left with yourself.
Now on sick days, I like to do an inventory of myself. It’s not a good time for inventory because the perspective of a sick mind is much gloomier than that of a healthy one, but who has time for life’s inventories on a healthy day.
New York life is busy and I feel like I am running, not sure where to or where from. But today, I am alone. Alone with my thoughts, checking if my worthlessness is still there. It is. Checking if there is any hope. There is. Days like today, I think of Lucy as lucky for dying so early. She doesn’t have to deal with all this life crap.
Life has so much crap.
Then I look at the school yard outside my window. The kids are playing. Each one in their own world. Each one, a growing universe. There are two girls speed-walking circles as if they are forty-year-old women. There is a boy who is all alone.
It’s all going to be ok.
Rest In Peace Lou Reed