goodnight/ bad morning

After sweeping and mopping, taking out the trash, moving the pile of clothes from the living room to the bedroom, painting one wall and one section of trim, I decided I'd done enough work for the day.

Into the city now, for some rambling around. There are loose plans to celebrate a friend's birthday, but I'm not exactly sure if that's going to come about. 

I've been thinking a lot about this past December. My life is so much back to normal now; I'm obsessing about stupid things and being silly and running around like crazy. It wasn't that long ago (it really really wasn't) that my whole life was wrapped up in an uncomfortable chair in a cold room and whether or not someone would open their eyes, and if she would know me when she did. It seems so strange to me, that six weeks later, I've forgotten everything I learned in that room. 

I wonder about the other girl, the one that wasn't lucky. She's six weeks away from losing her mother. Surely she isn't back to normal. Surely she's wishing she were me.