22 Years a Survivor

The slanting of five o’clock sun through the branches of trees with turning gold and red leaves pings the bowl of my soul with hollow sadness. I love autumn with its crunchy ground and vibrant sound, the textured weaves of color wound in scarves around craning necks and sweaters pulled down from shoulder to waist so as not to waste any warmth on shorter days and indigo nights.

That same kind of light poured down the afternoon I spent stuffing envelopes with invitations to the Lupus Foundation’s annual fundraiser. On such a mundane Sunday the riot of light lightened my step, filled my heart with cautious joy. Here I was, just four months post grad school graduation, volunteering for the good of good people with a very bad disease. Come on sun, rain down your light! Let the crisp air in cloudless sky blow my heart that much wider. That’s what I thought, fairly skipping into the building. Continue reading 22 Years a Survivor