19th Ave & Now

I had no idea back then how close I would live to that spot. All I knew was how very far the hospital was from my dorm room. How many miles of 19th Avenue my mother would have to drive without much help from me. How a dorm room and the top bunk weren’t on my list of top recuperating choices in 1997.

I and my nauseated cut open stomach just wanted the drive over. Wanted the hospital to live as far away as it literally was from where I would sleep that afternoon and night and well into the next day.

In 1997 there was no movie theater across from the front doors of John C Lincoln. Entering into the hospital, I had no daydreams of buying school supplies at that Office Max, or summer clothes at that Target. No reason to believe that I would drive past the hospital daily on my first job of the day, 5 days a week in 2010.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not suffering from nostalgia over a hospital, or Target. I’m just in awe that once again something so removed from my daily life became the absolutely mundane and not noticed part of my daily life a decade later.

And I’m hoping, (In this year of declared Hope.) this silly little story is just a nudge. A wee reminder that I don’t see all. I can’t even wish for all. I couldn’t and wouldn’t have wished for the situation that had me driving past the hospital on a daily basis. Both the hospital and later living near it were both blessings. I mean who doesn’t want photos of their ovaries, right? Maybe not.

Seriously, though, I am clueless about tomorrow. Which is fine because the dreamer-upper of my tomorrow happens to have fabulous taste and killer timing.

Now who is up for seeing the image where my liver photo bombed my ovary’s close-up?

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