January 22, 2024

A year ago, I sat on this lifeguard tower and journaled
what could have been my last entry.
That night, I suffered ventricular fibrillation,
better known as heart failure.
In the ambulance I vaguely heard the EMT
tell me my blood pressure reached 220
and my pulse was approaching 0
before he applied the paddles
which shocked my pulse back to 130. 

The paramedics cheered
the Frankenstein lightning bolt 
which revived me I could only feel 
the aftereffects:
a jolt burned through my body
leaving large scars on my back.

And here I sit now. Here I am,
basking in sunlight. Morning rain 
washed the sky celestial azure, clouds 
linger on an impalpable horizon
the outline of Catalina rises 
blue on the edge of the world
a world awash of life and light, alive.
The rush of winter surf is at my ankles.
A young boy chases gulls in the sand. 
A young woman in a sundress poses for photos beside the pier.

I live. Part of the sparkling world,
remembering my son playing with gulls,
my wife walking slowly with me, 
thankful for memories, thankful my eyes 
pick up the broad expanse of ocean mixing
with the ever-changing arc of the sky.
thankful my ears hear the eternal roar
of the waves breaking on the beach
even as the breeze whispers someday
this will end.