I was diagnosed with cancer ten months ago. I was devastated at first. There was so much to do, places to go. I only told my friend, Karolyn, who is also my boss. She gave me a raise and I worked for one more month. With all of that money, I traveled the world.
One month left, I traveled back to California where I went to go live with my parents in San Francisco.
That's where I am now. My parents refused to let my sleep on the couch and cleaned up the guest room for me (which used to be a storage room).
Instead of a couch, I sleep on a bed with the fluffiest blankets and pillows I've ever felt. It's almost like they know I'm sick. No, I haven't told them. Not yet. I don't want to think about it and I definitely don't want the people I'm living with to be constantly worrying over me. That's just me.
I get up out of my comfortable covers and sit down inside of my window seat.
"Today's forecast is dark and cloudy," I mumble to myself, "as always." I watch the people walking down the street. I lean out of the seat to see the time on my alarm clock. 8:45. Wow, people get out pretty early.
I pull my curtains back closed and get changed for the day: plain jeans, black shirt, pale orange sweater. I look myself over in the mirror.
"Not bad for a dying person," I think to myself and walk myself downstairs.
I turn into the kitchen where my mom is already making breakfast.
"Want a pancake?" She asks once she notices that I'm in the room.
"Just one," I say. I sit down at the counter in the kitchen. My mom slides a pancake over to me and a syrup bottle.
After I eat, I wash my dish and head for the door.
"I'm going out for a walk," I tell my mom. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and wave it towards her like I used to when I was a kid. I would do it before she even asked if I had it and to show I was responsible. She would laugh a little and say I could go. Then I would run outside with my friends.
Today, though, I have no friends. I walk alone.