What memories have survived now decorate a year gone by, like colorful ornaments; blue eyes here, brown there, green peering from around the corner. Why is it the eyes I remember? I work so hard to forget my own.
I am thankful for this; the kindness of doctors who keep me in medication that can't be afforded despite my disinterest in their life-prolonging effects. The efforts of those who seek my smiles even when they abscond with them soon after. The company of those who wish to give it. That my work is now being recognized by many. The knowledge that what I put forth into the world is what will be returned to me. That a goodbye doesn't mean forever.