Tumbling Blocks.

"Boum!" Cole demanded in his poorly enunciated baby-speak. I obliged, waking him over to the Lego's and large building blocks. He proceeded to hand them to me in chunks, sometimes three at a time and sometimes only one. I started the stack off and he fumbled around with the last few, insisting on finishing the tower himself. "Boum!" He repeated as he knocked down the house we built. It cascaded through the ground, scattering ever which way. When the clatter was over, a large portion of it was laying on its side, still intact.



I was suddenly struck so hard emotionally that I had to leave. I left Cole to my mother's care and walked upstairs to my room. There I sat in a small ball, pondering the recent events in my life.

---

Prior to West Bloomfield:



"You're skipping the wedding for MARCHING BAND?" My sister said incredulously.

"I can't let them down! Its a competition. We are one unit working together, you can't just take a piece out and expect it to run." I replied.

"Alright well sorry Aunt Kathy and Uncle Mike are gonna die soon. If I were you I'd be spending all the time I could with them." Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized what she was saying. I knew they were getting old but death? No, that hadn't crossed my mind. Invincible Mike? Ha, fat chance of death getting his hands around him. And Dadia? She has too many people to take care of. She couldn't die.

Invincible Mike. Just like your other Uncle Mike, huh? You saw him die, and you still don't believe it can happen to someone else?

Sad realization quickly turned to anger. Who the hell was she to say such things? I had never know my sister to be so snide. Honest? Yes. Head-strong? Yes. Blunt? Oh hell yes. But never so insensitive.

--

I saw today's scene play out in my head like a movie.



"Code blue! Code blue!" The speakers blared with a scratchy female voice. Available doctors rushed into the OR, scrambling for information. A bad reaction to the anesthetics and medications caused Kathy to stop breathing, mid examination. The doctors milled about in controlled chaos. Gathering oxygen tanks, ventilators, antitoxins, and counteractants. Meanwhile her heart rate plummeted. The doctor providing CPR wiped sweat from his brow and continued pumping...



---



They worked their magic---or simply did their job---and kept her heart beating. Eventually they were able to take her off the ventilator and she could breathe on her own. When my mother told me that I had nearly lost my Aunt today, I immediately thought back to that short, painful conversation I had with Jenny. Nothing is as permanent as it seems.



Here we all are, skating on thin ice, and at any moment any one of us could break through.



Recently, I have learned my life is simply a block house. It can tumble over at anytime. I never know whether it will stay intact, or simply crumble beyond recognition. First there was Dad's lungs and the looming threat of cancer. Then the one constant in my life tore out his roots from my heart and left a gaping hole. And in a blink of an eye that bright eyed, curly haired boy I met this summer had his life cut off abruptly in a car crash. While today, my aunt came face to face with death and I had skipped spending precious moments with her for a competition we got a piss worthy score at anyways.



Certainly, my house of Lego's is in a state of topplement, and all I can do is hope it survives the fall.