Mozart and Me
I read a collection of Mozart’s letters many years ago, and noticed one way are both alike. It’s not that we are both artistic geniuses underappreciated in our own time (wouldn’t that be cool?), it’s that we both take pains to keep our worries to ourselves.
Mozart made clear in his letters that it was very important to him not to ruin someone else’s happiness by complaining of his own troubles, and I am the same. The last few years have been terribly difficult, but it’s a source of pride and dignity for me that I’ve (mostly) kept other people blissfully unaware of how hard it’s been.
But if this post has made its way out of the queue, that means something life-changingly wonderful is happening. It means that I am in the hospital right now with Mona, and she is receiving a life-saving kidney transplant.
Things have gone so wrong for so long that I’ve been kind of a mess every since we found a donor. I’ve gone so long without good news that now that it’s come I don’t quite know how to process it.
Mona was the first girl I ever kissed, and the last one. How many people get to say that? This donor has gifted me with more years with the only girl I want to spend them with.
I couldn’t be more happy.
I’ve never been so grateful.