Soaring, gliding, watching all that is grounded. A dream for now. The home I’m building now will be called Raven’s Rest. A place for the heart to soar. The mind to rest. A place of beauty and ingenuity.

Can I make the journey there? Depression is clipping my wings. Positive thoughts and potent medications aren’t enough to battle the ever-increasing feathers ripping off my graceful wings. Floating, catching an updraft. Twirling. Spiraling down to my own mound of ash. I watch them fall, mocking me. Come join us and rest. I must find a breeze to float me through this time of darkness.

Blind determination has allowed me to forge through a previous period of time like this. It only gets more arduous. Must soar, find that updraft, and continue to fight gravity. Look forward to a gentle flight, Peaceful landing. Gatherings with other cronies. Our small unorthodox family.

Give me something to crow about. Compliments abound on my design for Ravens Rest, but it is not enough. Now seizures have said their hello. Once is not enough. They come knocking and knocking till I am floored several times a day. Thought process is getting difficult. Mental anguish too much to bear. Physical pain from the ever-increasing events drains me of both physical and mental strength. Cancer. They said it couldn’t be, but the test proves them wrong. Two years. How can one live life to the fullest when it is such a struggle to get through five minutes? That is how I survive. Five-minute increments.

If I make it five minutes, I’ll catch an updraft and escape. When the time elapses, I try again, and again. Eventually it is time to sleep, but even that has become difficult. If I can fall asleep, things will be better in the morning. They aren’t. Five-minute rule for the rest of the day. Days become weeks. The physical events more challenging, soon I may not be able to drive. There are times I am too tired to climb the stairs, or get up the driveway. Intense headaches are combined with piercing pain through my eyes. Walking the dogs on Thanksgiving Day I collapse. The rain is screeching toward earth as I lay half on the grass sidewalk and half in the street. My body convulses and shots pain through my limbs. My eyes tear, not from the pain, but an unexplained side effect of the “event”. Three neighbors in our little community drive by and offer no assistance. One of our dogs licks my face. Love.