505 days ago my mother died.
520 days earlier, she received her first chemotherapy treatment. She’s been gone nearly as long as she was sick.
Much can transpire in a single moment. The moments gently layer upon each other, and accumulate mostly unnoticed until maybe a year and some change later you look back with a gentle shake of the head and say to yourself, damn, a lot has happened in the past 500 days.
Maybe you conceived and delivered the baby who is suckling at your breast. Many of my friends did.
Maybe you lost your mind, the last remnants of your freedom. My grandmother did.
Maybe you became a vegan and lost 40 pounds and now spend your free time hiking in the mountains. My stepfather did, and does.
Maybe your marriage ended. My sister’s did, my best friend’s did, mine did.
A handful of months, 500 days or so– enough time to snuff out a life, to create a life, to reclaim a life.
And what will I do with the next 500 days? What will you do?