This morning Valerie Harper, diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and told she has three months to live, said upon receiving word that the tumor has shrunk a bit, "How exciting! I may make it to Christmas." There was such a look of joy on her face.
I want to bottle that.
When threatened with total darkness, the teeniest wavering flame is meaningful. And yet we natter away our full, healthy, promising days with inanity.
I want to remember.
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