it is what it is

It’s been a while. A while of not writing.

A while of having nothing to say.

Except certain phrases:

Don’t get cancer.

It’ll be fine.

It is what it is.

I say them often. On a loop.

Not to the same people.

I seem to reserve Don’t get cancer for friends. People my age, or within fifteen years of my age, give or take. And when I say it, I mean it. Like I can prevent cancer from happening with words; as though I can ordain it to be so; demand that this not happen.

An imperative; an incantation; a command.

I don’t want anyone else to live this experience and yet I now know it’s a concrete possibility. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. Except issue this directive and cross my fingers that words have a power I don’t possess.

Family members are most likely to get It’ll be fine.

And it will be fine.

I feel it in my water and in the kindness and good wishes that encircle me.

I feel it in the treatment I receive. I feel it in the care I’m given. [I’ve learned that treatment and care are not one in the same. This is a thought for another time. A time when I have more words.]

It is what it is seems to be for everyone. It’s indiscriminate and uttered most frequently.

I’d like to have more words. But I don’t. Not yet.

I’ve been told this is a season. A season that will pass.

When it does there will be words.

I promise.