Black, White
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- Parts 3
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Mon, Aug 1, 2016
"This has always been our problem- we have nothing to say to each other."
The first five things I bought immediately after they told me that all I have left is six months before leukemia claim my life were cup of Selecta Rocky Road, a secondhand blue-and-black BMX, a pad of yellow paper and two trustworthy black ballpens. Everything seemed so unreal, so surrealistic. Staring out at the setting sun, my newly acquired bicycle leaning against me, the pad and pens nestled on my lap; I contemplated my life between mouthfuls of heavenly ice cream. So many dreams still left unreached, so many goals left unaccomplished. I wouldn't be having chance to name a son, I would never experience the 20% senior citizen discount. Yet there were no tears. I am still amazed by the strange serenity, the calm which settled upon me. I viewed death objectively, rather than be obsessed with what was coming; I was motivated to use my remaining breaths in smoothing the creases I've done in my life.
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