Breaths matter. Physically and emotionally. We take so many every day, that we forget they are there, until one day we start losing them. Any illness teaches us the importance of every body part. When a little part of us doesn't function well, we feel scared and inadequate.
The one month that K had fluid in his chest, every breath became laborious. The first month of treatment was spent just trying to get our breath back- physically and metaphorically. Suddenly our priorities became so clear. Lives cannot be lived without love and health.
We waste so many breaths every day. Fretting about our jobs, what others say or do, or what we wanted but could not do. I would say- save it. Because you really don't want to see the day when you can count your breaths on your fingers. Let the world happen to you. Slow down. Feel the length of the day without rushing all the time. Make every breath count.
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