Being Human is a Cold

Utah really is so beautiful.

Hello my friends. I am finally back after the grand mouse fiasco that consumed my life for a couple of weeks. I feel clean and safe in my home, but now I have a cold. One of the most human experiences I can imagine.

Firstly, everyone has had a cold at least once in the last five years. Everyone will likely have another cold in the future. We could measure life from cold to cold, or from non-cold to non-cold. My nose is stuffy and the sockets behind my eyes ache. In fact, my entire body aches. I am hyper-aware of all of my muscles and joints because they all hurt. I suppose it is good timing to have a cold collide with Thanksgiving. I am definitely thankful that I am not perpetually physically ill. Usually I can swim and jump and smell things and not sneeze a four inch strand of boogers out both nostrils simultaneously before deciding that it might be time for a decongestion shower after all. (That is sadly, not an exaggeration).

There is no cure for the cold, although cold medicine does truly help alleviate the symptoms. Suffering is human, even alleviated suffering is still suffering. A cold lasts seven to ten days, typically. Sniffles and fever illuminating how fragile humanity really is, how plausible it is that a virus really might end things for good this time around. Then, there is a return to normalcy. I will swim and jump and not have difficulty breathing. What a funny conundrum, the common cold.

Another funny thing about having a cold, and this part might truly just be me, but I always get sad that no one is around to keep me, my runny nose, and my trashcan full of tissues company. It is such a funny thing to fantasize about, having a girlfriend or boyfriend come sit in bed with me and watch bad movies and eventually also get sick and then I can take care of them too. I don't actually want to get people sick, but I love the idea of not being isolated in my temporary weakness. When I am the most tired and the least capable of doing the dishes, I would like help. But I don't need it. Duh. I would never admit to needing help. Actually, my therapist and I are working on my being willing to reach out to people when I am sick. When I can't get out of bed because I am too depressed or too congested. I'll get 'em next time.

As always the poem:

-

What’s Left of Love?

Just for the record,

I wanted to fall in love 

because of grand gestures.

I wanted cream-colored letters,

sealed with wax,

begging me to come dancing in the rain.

I wanted ballads sung by starlight 

and silver ball gowns 

and stable politics.

But my soulmate

will be curated

by an algorithm, not fate.

We call it chemistry

when we both swipe right.

So, “hey:)”

Let’s give it a try.

We just might collide, 

falling in “like.”

You don’t ask for love,

just attention.

So, let’s be friends.

End before it begins.

Mute each other’s stories.

Ache with almost.

And now, liking your photo 

is lonelier than love.

Once upon a time,

I thought I'd get swept off my feet.

But this is the only love left.

I know how it goes, 

Maybe waiting is enough.

Maybe love isn’t what I thought.

Not grand, not perfect, just real.

Like a common cold by candlelight.

Yours Truly,

Macy