twenty four

i spent this past weekend in vermont with my friends and sister. we made the drive up on friday and for the next few days, we sat in the hot tub and drank until our faces were red from heat and our jaws ached from laughter. we played punch for punch, built fires and recorded songs on matt’s flipcam. some of us skied black diamond trails while others watched random Olympic sports on the television. we snuggled on the pull-out couch and in each others beds and arms. we took three hundred silly pictures, three hundred inside jokes.

we came home last night and today i turned twenty four.

my coworkers bought me lunch and flowers. my boss got me a book that i had mentioned i wanted to read weeks ago. my friends and family texted and called and wrote on my facebook wall. they remembered.

my parents called me and told me how much they loved me, how important i was to them. 8:34 on a sunday night, they said. that’s when our lives changed.

after work, my friends took me out to dinner. we laughed and drank sangria and talked about the weekend.

as i walked home, i remembered that just a week ago, i was in such pain that i didn’t know how much longer i could keep my head above water. i was losing my strength—both physical and emotional— in a way that scared me.

but the past seven days have been the answer to a prayer i don’t remember asking for.

they—you—have brought me back.

as i blew out my candles on saturday night, i looked around, my face flushed with happiness. i realized that this year, for the first time, i forgot to wish for anything. i forgot to ask to be better. i forgot to wish for the ease i so often covet .

i am twenty four years old now and i am still learning to cope, how to stop wishing to be healthy and normal and fine. if i have to be sick forever but have this life, then that is okay. every healthy minute is remembered, bookmarked and stuck in my pocket. every sick one is made better by knowing what surrounds me.

i am loved and i love.

i do not need to ask for more than that.

i have what i need here.






  1. i loved every second of this weekend.

  2. I almost cried reading that...go figure. im so happy you had such a great birthday...drinks and catching up soon please!


  3. 24 has made you sentimental. <3 you.

  4. Vermont 2010!! Wooo, best trip EVER. Good job putting the trip into words, there are so many inside jokes and weird events I literally wouldn't even know where to start.

  5. wow written soo well, and touching;the weekly cycles of life...

    Miss you Mason !

  6. So glad you shared.

  7. Awesome blog :) love you kelly

    - Anna

  8. Ew, I can't believe I've gotten sentimental.

    Thanks everyone...

  9. you are so loved and i am so proud of your appreciation of life. You have always seen things and experienced pain that most dont in a life time. I am so glad you havent lost the strength! you are a fighter and i truly love you!

    I think all the snuggling made you mushy. I like this new sentimental you, it's like when the Grinch turns nice, and his heart grows to three times its size.

  11. I keep reading this blog over and over and I still have the same reaction-it makes me cry. I cry because I take for granted what you lack-health. I'll blame the tears on the aging process, but even if you did have alcohol in your system while writing this, it made me grateful. You keep all of us grounded in what is truly important in life. Peace to you.

  12. What a great resource!

  13. thanks for making me cry.


  14. wow. this blew me away. especially in the context of reading it as a link to the hospital post. Great juxtaposition...almost like a moment of levity that then smashes you in the face. Very powerful.

  15. Kathy (@OnLocustStreet)July 10, 2010 at 7:18 AM

    Kelly --
    I am one of those newcomers. Found you via twitter. Love what you write and how open you are about what you're going through. I know your birthday was months ago (ours are close -- mine is 2/17) but happy birthday and cheers to you.