Breathe Again

In early December, I wrote about a friend who received life-saving news. When I say it saved their life, I am not being tongue in cheek. The surgery they needed finally happened after a nearly half-decade wait. This news was one of the most remarkable feelings of relief I've ever felt for another person. Now that the surgery has happened, I have a front-row seat to witness them falling into the entirety of themselves as if they had left the surgical table born once more. Recovery was not immediate, but even the day after the surgery, while on a Facetime call with them, I could immediately see something was different. Their face had changed; what was once shadows highlighting their features became a bright light that seemed to have turned on internally, lighting up their face and bringing the kindness and warmth they embody daily to the forefront. I was witnessing a testimony in the making.

One of the remarkable things this person shared with me about the many things that changed for them post-surgery was that they had increased breath control. Even in knowing what they were facing, this was still new information for me. I hadn't considered that their movements and words carried a heavy weight that they somehow carried publicly like a cup of air. This reminded me yet again that we never fully know what the person next to us is holding out of our eye line.

My friend happens to have a job that requires alot of talking and stopped being able to do part of that work due to their health. So today, less than 90 days after their surgery, as I witnessed them return to this piece of themselves, walking boldly and proudly to the metaphoric mic to share their gift and testimony, I was reminded of the simple pleasure, necessity, and gift of each breath we take.

For those of us who have experienced mostly full health, we go about our days with our bodies doing all the things it does with not much thought or effort on our part, which leads to us forgetting that the body and its ability to function as a symphony in perfect rhythm is a seismic miracle, so today as I watched my friend open their mouth and use each precious breath to breathe life into others I was moved to tears. In a nearly paralyzed state of emotions, I sat watching and listening to them with a face full of tears. The handkerchief I brought was made into abstract art from my makeup as I dabbed a constant flow of big, full tears. They were back in stride, back to holding air.

If I've learned anything over the last eighty-three days watching my friend, my living testimony is that a dream deferred is not denial, and every breath we take is an opportunity to change the world.

Get to breathing.