Remember; You Have the Universe

[ 65 ]

Monique
somehow has
a miraculous amount
of energy to
babysit my
mask-wearing
habits.
Having gotten over
my cold helps,
but I still don't like
strapping a
death trap
over my only forms
of breathing.
She says
it's that or
the nasty flu
that's been
sending people
dropping out of
school for a week
like flies.

I hate that
she's right
and that there's no
smooth-talking
my way out of
Emphysema.
Not that
I'm very good at
persuading people
to do anything
anyway.

She asks how
the tics
have been,
if Quinn has
gotten over
herself yet.
I check in
with her
DIY
Christmas decorations
she's been so
elated about.

I tell her about
a conversation
Mom and I had
the night before that
Monique agrees with
to the
very core of
her soul.

Mom and I were
talking about
the first Christmas
after I was
diagnosed
and how we
did something small
together
because medical bills
had drained
the bank.
I was worried
I'd never be able to
enjoy things
I loved
the same way,
and she was worried about
keeping me
functioning.
Stress and poverty
caused a contentious
holiday season,
which we compared to
this year,
our second year
with Jeff.

Mom told me
that she wanted to
keep me in a
bubble where
I'd never get hurt,
but she let me
run for
Student Council
because she didn't want to make
my whole life about
my illness.
Yesterday she confessed
that she knows
we use chalk
and spray paint
all the time,
but she let me
keeping going because she
wants me to be happy.
She admitted to
stressing over it,
but that it is
worth it.

This is a
smack on the face
reminder
of what I
still can do,
and how I'm
not taking
advantage of if.
I can't believe
I wasted
so much time
wanting to be
normal
and still acting as if
I'm not at all.
Mom believes
normal isn't about
what you can
or can't do,
but what
we choose
to be a part of.
Everyone has
their baggage,
and the people
who appear happy
are those who
are the best at
finding a way
to be happy
and enjoy "normal."