i don't think about my life being fragile. i'm too low in numbers to appreciate it on a day-to-day basis. my sister called me, near-sick with tears, and told me that my beloved Aunt Vivian fell in the kitchen, got to her feet and fell again. the second time, she didn't get up. she stopped breathing and lay there until her husband found her later. and now, she is lying in a hospital bed with no brain activity.

i don't think about my life being fragile. i tell my sister to stay calm and that i will drive mom the three hours to South Carolina if she can get here to me. i ask for details that no one seems to have. i can hear my mom, hysterical in the background. and, even when i talk to the Wolf and i tell him what's going on, i know that no one can get me through this but me. and no one can get everyone else through this but me. there's always hope if i'm pushing, pulling, dragging, carrying them along.

i don't think about my life being fragile. i'm always the one who's standing there, solid, while everyone else is losing it. i'm always the one putting them first.

i don't think about my life being fragile. i pray. i resist. i hope. i wait.