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We have all these ideas about what that term “fully alive”means. Some associate the term with the adrenalin rush of sky diving or bungee jumping. Not being female, I can’t imagine what the experience of childbirth is like. But I suspect there is a heightened sense of what it means to be alive after the experience is over. Or maybe not.

What got me thinking about this was today. I took a car that was overheating into the shop, wondering if it would make it there, especially after it stalled out at a busy intersection. There, at the shop, serendipitously was an AA buddy who drove me home, despite that it took him out of his way. 

I had one of those monster cookies at the Starbucks inside Barnes & Noble. Triple. Chocolate. Chunk. It was good, but I would rather have had a mango.  Our preferences change.

And I thought about sex. Sex. The sweaty passion. And the noises. And the sacrifice of dignity as we come. And your lover knows your secrets. How you like to be touched. How you trust that lover, for at least that moment, and maybe, if you’re lucky, forever.

 I swim and the cold water feels good. My muscles stretch, reach,  and move me through the water. When I’m done the shower feels great and the soap smells good and I feel clean. 

The night comes. I feel tired, and hurt a little. As sleep settles in,  I’m euphoric. I want more. Of this day. Of the subtleties that enrich each moment of this blessing called life.

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