Deidra Alexander's Blog

June 21

I could hardly crawl out of bed. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I refused to let myself believe it was going to be this hard. It wasn’t just hard for me, but Charlie too. He spent the first few days of my treatment trying to coax me to drink and eat, then watching when everything came right back up. I can’t remember having spent so much time in bed.

I feel bad for Charlie. I thought he’d be able to continue working on his project in spite of my illness, but now he seems to spend most of his time taking care of me. At least he has a break when Allie stops by.

“Do you remember when you first found this house?” she asked, lying next to me as if we were just taking a little nap instead of lying here because I can barely hold my head up.

“Do you remember the look on Gordon’s face when we brought him here?” I asked.

“He thought you’d lost your mind buying some house that would be better off condemned.”

The old house had fallen on hard times. The walls were covered with peeling layers of browning wallpaper. The settling foundation had opened cracks that had torn through the wallpaper, leaving holes large enough to put your fingers through. A beam had cracked breaking through the living room ceiling. The backyard was filled with waist high weeds.

But under all that was a stone farm house built in the eighteen nineties. It was a one story structure that had been added on to over the years. Deep cool porches lined both front and back offering shade from the hot Texas summers. The backyard was almost forested by trees and beyond the weeds was a small creek. I had fallen in love with the tall ceilings; the dark wood floor with planks wider than my hand; and the long windows set into the thick stone walls.

“Remember how you spent almost every day here helping me tear this place apart?” I reminded her.

“And then putting it back together.”

“I thought we’d never finish.”

“I wish we hadn’t. How did we wonder so far apart?” Allie asked, taking my hand.

“We aren’t far apart. We see each other every week.”

I knew what she meant, but wanted to feign innocence.

“That’s not what I mean. How could we see each other every week and not see each other?” Allie asked the question I had been asking myself.

“Just life I guess.”

People continue marching along as if they have all the time in the world, never letting themselves think that their time here is limited. No one can guess how long they have, but we all live as if that day will never come. We all know we should live each day as if there will be no tomorrow, but we don’t. We think that applies to everyone else except us.

There are so many days I regret now. Days wasted in mindlessness. How I wish I had made better use of those days.