|
a new way of looking at... writings >> zak mayer >> untitled |
- info -
|
Twenty-two years old and lucky to be alive. My best friend of exactly, counting back from memory, 20 or 21 years. Well time doesn't matter right now, or maybe it will, but to put it in terms that I can understand right now, I've known you since you called me 'Ack-ree'. I remember the neighborhood gang cheering you on as you rode your bike for the first time without training wheels. Funny how that seems like yesterday and yet it's so foggy. You'd think you'd nearly kill yourself mountain bike racing, and not road bike racing. Seems the odd things always happen in odd ways. I can't help but chuckle when I try to figure out how you hit a tree, but nature happens and this is no joke now. I don't have the details, but I know you are ICU, sedated, and stablized after eight hours of surgery. I can imagine the surgery, intense, full of noises that make me want to lose my lunch. I wonder who the bone donor was that gave you the new parts for your spine. Perhaps it was my grandfather. I doubt it since his body was probably not in that great of shape. My brain is screaming out that I should be visiting you right now and I feel so helpless knowing that I can't just yet. Maybe I should get a hold of Carl and see if I can spend the weekend with him. After all he does live in La Crosse. Who knows? The distance that school put between us these last five years seems like a crack in the sidewalk suddenly. Not even. Maybe a fine hair. Lucky to be here yet. For you and for me, because I don't know what I'd do without you even if we only talk every three months at this point. Maybe it's time to change that. I'm fresh out and I'll keep praying. You keep breathing. |