tenacious ovenbird She is making him a poster. It will have pictures of all his family and friends holding up a single word that they associate with him. This is meant to boost his morale while amyloid plaques eat his brain. I stalled for days because I couldn’t figure out how to sum up a life in a single word. Everything felt too small. Is he courageous? Sure. But he doesn’t really have a choice. Kind? Grounded? Focused? They all sound so generic. These words could describe almost anyone. More than one person chose “resilient” but that’s not exactly true. He can’t resist the progression of this disease. He isn’t going to bounce back. There is no recovery in any version of any universe. I am Charlotte trying to spin silk into a word that can save a life. I will fail. No word will let him live. God said, “let there be light” and there was, but god can’t be bothered to utter the words that would let a good man continue to hug his children at night. I ultimately chose “tenacious.” He holds on to hope and to love and to joy under the most horrifying circumstances. That is something he chooses. It’s something he IS, not something he is forced to be. So I wrote it in thick black marker on a piece of cardstock and took a picture and sent it off to be included on the poster which is already too late because his vision is failing and he may not be able to see any of the words we’ve written. So much is too little too late. But we write our love letters anyway. Because what else can you do when the worst is already here? 260310 what's it to you? who go blather from