Simple Kind Of Life

"Girl, you better watch out, you're gonna catch pneumonia," he screamed to me as I passed him outside the Family Court building on Brooklyn Bridge Boulevard. I looked back and laughed, "I just had pneumonia!" feeling strong and reckless, feeling like me. I crossed Tillary Street and ran up the incline on to the bridge passing Brooklyn's building on Adams Street and looking at it trying to remember what his apartment number was and wondering what he'd do if I turned around and went to his house instead. Of course I didn't do that, been thinking about him lately and almost called him last week when I was sad but didn't; that's a Pandora's box I am not sure that I want to open. I ran over the bridge revelling in the beauty of the Brooklyn Bridge at night in the snow. There is nothing like it. I was going to go to yoga last night but when I left work and saw that it was actually snowing (I am a weather cynic, I doubted it would snow), I knew that a warrior princess run was in my near future.

I got home, devoured one of my 'magic' brownies at the suggestion of Maguire who opined that it could make for a good run. I did a quick change and was on my way. It was a transcendant experience. Memories flooded my mind. I remembered my first winter in Brooklyn, winter of 2002-2003 which was my best winter in Brooklyn. I was living on Sackett Street with A and MO and just starting getting serious with Illinois. I was working at the liquor store and between us, we all had flexible, weird, free schedules. It snowed like crazy that winter and we had a blast going out every night or staying in and drinking wine or smoking pot. The snow made everything we did feel like an adventure. We played in the snow and rented movies. That was the winter of the famous 'honey brother' contest where we got very high and turned the honey jar upside down and made a bet as to how long it would take for the honey to follow. A. won. Because she won she decided we all had to pick a goal to complete in the next month. Hers was to sign up for acting classes. Mine was to get a real job. MO's was to stop making out with so many guys. Illlinois' was to only stay at the bar for a maximum of one hour after he got off work. We all made good on those goals.

As I approached Manhattan and turned around en route back to Brooklyn the vision of the bridge in all its majesty with snow falling and the flag waving and Brooklyn in the background made me proud of my last five years living in Brooklyn where I realized who I was, where I became who I am, where I reclaimed what I had lost and had some of the highest highs and lowest lows; I really lived, for the first time ever I really lived. Of course I have a lot of it to blame on my health. Having a chronic illness makes you feel more alive as everytime you feel 'normal,' it feels like some divine being is smiling down on you, like the sun's shining for the first time and it's shining on you. And everytime you are sick, you're so sick you think you will die. So you feel like you're really alive and it's ironic because you are closer to death than people who never feel as alive as you feel. And I love it. What a Valentine's Day treat to be running on the Brooklyn Bridge at night in the snow at the mercy of the most beautiful vista spread out before me in all it of its glory and with my amazing body full of toxins running just the same as it always did. Each stride a miracle and each stride my miracle, my body. I can hate my body all I want but when I run and do yoga I love my body simply because it still works and because I am in control when I'm running. My body is at my mercy instead of the opposite. In fact, my diseased body can do more than most healthy people's can (when I was in the hospital and had an x-ray of my lower lumbar I had to bend forward and backwards and the technician told me she'd never seen anyone bend that far). I am still a badass motherfucker running on the Brooklyn Bridge at night in the snow big smile on my face listening to crazy hip-hop reveling in how great my life is how much I have overcome how lucky I am how I have never been happier than I am right now.

No boyfriend. No real job. No health. No money. No book deal. But I am thrilled. When you lose everything, you see how much you actually do have and how precious these things are. Like when I go through my clothes and get rid of bags and bags and oddly finally have something to wear. I didn't buy anything new; I can finally see what I have is all. I ran over the bridge and back. I ran into DUMBO. I ran on Furman Street until it turned into Columbia. I took a right on Carroll Street and saw that my old apartment was painted green. I took a left onto Van Brunt Street and ran until I hit the river, Lady Liberty was proudly raising her torch off in the distance. By then, my I-Pod had run out of battery and I was singing to myself. I laughed realizing I was out of tunes (and tune) and very far from home. Then I noticed the sound my feet made in the snow and the slush slush of cars going by and I was fine. The tenor of my run changed but my run was still glorious.

The lesson in all of this reminiscing and musing last night is that I am happy. Happiness has nothing to do with a job a boyfriend or any of the above. My body works despite how fucked up it is. I am enjoying my apartment, my neighborhood, my writing, my reading, my family and my friends. I am enjoying being me. I am enjoying the control I feel over my future, just in finally knowing what I want it to look like as blurred by the snow as it still is. It snowed for me today and I spent almost two hours running in it. That's love. That's Valentine's Day. I couldn't have had a better gift.