On the Morrow

I know not where the spirit flees

When life has made the choice

To bring the body to its knees

And let the soul rejoice

But somewhere in the cosmos

Where truth and faith do meet

At that intersection

You can table me a seat

So when sun and sky have parted Way

And starlight heaves a sigh

Keep on eye the morrow day

Forever on the nigh

Brother mine,

Can it really be 22 years? Seriously, I’m asking.

See, you’ve messed with my sense of time. And by ‘messed with,’ I mean shook my world and got shit straight.

Before I knew you, when I was diabetic, time was a zero-sum game. It moved from one place, me, and into another place, far from me. It made for a lousy hourglass: leaky, relentless, ever more granular.

But since our paths crossed, 22 years ago today, you have flipped the hourglass — or at least the way it seems to measure. Now I don’t mark time counting down, but counting up.

When did that change? When did I forget all life is youth? As a child, I knew the proper order. I was once ‘six AND A HALF.’ ‘NEARLY 16,’ ‘ ALMOST 18’, ‘FINALLY 21.’

Somewhere, I began counting down. Or backward. Or outward. Whatever the direction, time seemed to move without me in the current, yet still in its undertow.

And then our paths merged in Minnesota, where you bent time like Superman at a railroad trestle.

Now I count up again. Now I don’t see a zero-sum game, but a long distance record to be kept, defended, improved and journaled. Twenty-two years and counting, and I never expected to be noting calendars.

I don’t know where your heart, or lungs, or other kidney went on January 11, 2000. Hopefully, those organs play a hymnal to you everyday, especially this one.

Because our journey, at least, has offered my life more than an extension of time. It has given me a sense of purpose: To see how long a sickly scribbler can peck away away despite Mother Nature’s disdain. Each day, science as tailwind, we plant that flag a step further, a hand higher.

And we may be nearing a notable summit. Or at least an impressive basecamp: The people at Fairview University say they don’t know of a kidney-pancreas transplant that’s lasted this long.

So why stop here? Let’s hold our anniversary as mile-marker, with a nod to Mother Nature and a question of Father Time:

Where to next?

Now, back to that question: Can it really be 22 years? Because it feels like yesterday.

Or tomorrow.