The Loneliness of Twinkle Lights
Loneliness has always been presented to me as a temporary affliction that can be quickly alleviated through more friends, a more chipper attitude, or joining an adult kickball team.
Loneliness has always been presented to me as a temporary affliction that can be quickly alleviated through more friends, a more chipper attitude, or joining an adult kickball team.
There are bajillions of traditions that have named and described Life Seasons, but here is my own particular definition (and playlist) for each.
My grandparents used to make spontaneous phone calls. They were also people who stopped by the neighbors’ house unannounced — something I can’t imagine anyone I know actually doing.
“Today you have to put your shoes on by yourself,” my physical therapist announced one morning this spring, after I woke up from another restless night on a stiff plastic mattress. I was recovering from a rare disease that paralyzed my hands and legs for a month, and I was learning how to enter the world outside the hospital again. The worst part of the ordeal was not being able to change sleeping positions at night. The second-worst part was the loss of my treasured independence. I couldn’t turn a page or open my Chap Stick or scratch an itch by myself. It took five minutes to work up enough strength to even move my foot.