Today I want to write something positive. A purple-and-shortcut-hair writer sitting in the corner of the neighbourhood coffeeshop chain, her almost-brand-new notepad quickly filling up with scribbled words, her double-whipped-cream latte cooling on the low table nearby, threatening to fall from the top-of-the-pile of over-read local newspaper sections. An old man, spine doubled down from the weight of the years and something else inside him, carefully opening the old library book. A couple of thirty-something energetic women, sipping tea and conversing in a fast staccatto of rythmic understanding. A couple of middle-aged black men, their shirts crisp white, their pants pressed, taking a break from an office job. Teenagers who mostly pick up lunch or a snack and whiz out, food in one hand, I-pad/pod/phone in the other. And me, with my tubes badly hidden under the military green jacket, cozy americano in hand, backpack with heavy tank dropped on the dirty floor (I still care but I don't have the strength). I used to be that writer, these women, those teenagers. Don't look at me now, don't ask, although I do appreciate the open door, the coffee cup brought to my table, the offer of a more comfortable seat by the window... I used to be many of you and now I feel like nothing, I'd rather be nothing but air. Yet here I am, heavy, way too heavy and hard knocked and at the same time so empty I can just sit there, no need for a notebook, an old newspaper, or a companion, just sit there for hours watching others be what I used to be, what I wish I could be again... perhaps one day.

Thank you for the couple of hours of coffee shop bliss, bittersweet like the coffee and lemon-cranberry scone, bittersweet like life, and yet a ray of sunshine after so many rainy, gray days. So perhaps even with all the tubes, and with all the pain of undignities physical and psychological, there is still something out there... just maybe. To the girl with the purple hair, I hope one day to read your story... and I sure hope it is better than mine!

And to those who don't know Ottawa, the Elmvale Mall Starbucks is just a few minutes drive from the General Hospital... hence my presence there...in between appointments...