There is the age old question of "if a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear it, does it make a sound?" I wonder if the same applies to writing, if no one reads what you wrote, does it exist? I think the modern day platforms have shortened the human attention span and so it doesn't really matter if you write everything perfectly -you have to engage and captivate your reader in a matter of seconds to keep them reading. You might have wonderful things to say and use all the proper forms of punctuation and grammar but if no one is reading it, does it make a sound? Imagination and intrigue have become more important than writing rules.

The first thing I want to do is eat. I feel like I have been dreaming of food for an eternity or um .. 67 years to be exact. I don't remember dreaming but I have a feeling I did. About food. I want something HOT. I can't seem to shake this feeling of being cold. I wish they would hurry up and finish explaining all the details.... blah blah 2019 blah things are different...blah blah cell phone (whatever that means) blah blah money card... blah blah..clumsy....blah -I want food. Finally they open the door and there is bright sunshine like I have never felt before. It feels me with warmth all over. I take a second and let it soak in, I take a deep breath, open my eyes and ask "where do we eat?"

"What kind of food do you want?" asks my friend, oops- I have already forgotten their name.

I wonder about this question. What kind of food?

"I am not sure I understand your question", I reply.

"Well there is some really good Thai food down the street, or we could get tacos from the taco truck, pizza, burgers, hot wings, Chinese, sushi... pretty much anything you can imagine is close at hand."

Well this is interesting, anything I can imagine eh? I only understood about three of things they said. Let me think.

"Well if you hadn't eaten in 67 years, what would you eat?" I ask.

"Well I'm gluten free and lactose intolerant but I do like Thai food and tacos."

Again I have no idea what that means but I say "take me to your favorite restaraunt".

So my new friend and I start walking. I feel like I'm walking on air. I know my body is moving but I am not sure who is in control. There are people everywhere. People of all different colors. I don't remember ever seeing so many non-white people. People smile and say hello, some are pre-occupied with their, what I now know is their "cell phone". We get to the restaraunt and right away the smell awakens something in me, something new and exciting. My friend orders for us and when the food comes I am a little nervous. I am not sure about the colors and the chunks that I can't identify covered in a bright green sauce. In 1952 we ate some pasta, lots of meat, and many casseroles so I am familiar with not being able to identify what I am eating. I don't remember anything that looked or smelled like this. The food tastes like fireworks look, I want to lick the plate clean. We leave the restaraunt and go to an ice cream shop. I remember ice cream. We had chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. Here there are 22 flavors- and some, like lavender, don't seem edible. But it is creamy, exciting and delicious. More friends of my friend show up, people are curious about me. I guess being frozen for a few decades is not an everyday thing. I appreciate the fact that they don't treat me like a freak even though I am asking a lot of questions. I feel childish but the people around me don't treat me like a child. Everyone is repectful and non judgemental which is a bit different from the world I came from. I can't seem to remember anyone's name but I am told that this is a side effect of being frozen and hopefully over time my short term memory will improve. I tell my friend I am still hungry. She takes me to get hot wings. I have no idea what this could possibly mean. They are in fact tiny parts of the chicken covered in a sauce that makes me cry. We wash it down with a beer. I remember beer but now there are so many different kinds of beer I feel like it must be a joke. I have this urge to see and taste everything. Who knew the world could be so full of flavor and color and magic. The best part is- no one is telling me I can't see this, or try that, or go there. It seems that nothing is off limits. People are mixing everything up. Anyone can marry anyone, there are places that serve chicken and waffles...together. I am overwhelmed by how big the world feels and I have anxiety about not being to see and taste it all. I am 35, which everyone keeps telling me is the "new 20". "There is time" my friend reassures me as we walk down the busy street in the morning. People around us have their lattes, and I have an unquenchable optimism that the world is a wonderful place.

I try to run. It's never been easy for me. I've always been big. Tall and thick would best describe me. I've tried for years to get into running as a way to exercise and be healthy. My husband can run. He is tall and skinny and grew up playing soccer. He can run. I like to say he is built like a gazelle and I am built like a rhinoceros. I remember the first time we tried to go for a run together. It was my idea of course, I thought it would be cute, a couple running through the park together, sweaty but romantic in it's own way. After a few minutes he looks over at me while I'm huffing and puffing and says " I might as well be walking". We haven't run together since. When I go for a run - it's really a jog, but it sounds better to say " I got up and went for a run today". People think "oh she is healthy and fit". I want people to think I'm healthy. Being seen running and talking about going for a run implies a certain lifestyle. It's vain, I know, to want people to think of me as fit and sporty. To be honest however, running SUCKS. It's hard for me. Some days I feel like cement blocks are tied to my feet and I can barley lift them off the ground. Somedays I can't breathe and sometimes I'm so sore afterwards it makes the rest of my day harder. But I keep trying. I find new places to run, maybe it won't suck so bad if there is a beautiful view, a body of water, a beach to sit at afterward or place to get a delicious latte nearby, those things do help. I've tried running inside and outside, on dirt and pavement and even barefoot in the sand. They say its good for you and your heart so I keep trying, three miles every few days so. I keep trying. Then there is the running culture. It's just so stuck up, so elitist. People brag about how many half marathons, full marathons, ultra marathons they've completed. They have a sercret language, talking about their PR all the time. There are books and magazines and blogs all dedicated to running and meant to inspire and encourage. Then there is the gear you are expected to have as a runner. $300 shoes, the handheld water bottle, the special running fanny pack, the right outfit, the energy gel packs, the hats, the gloves, the socks.....I can't keep up. So I just give up.

But...

I don't. I don't give up because there is a feeling at the end of run of something accomplished. There is joy. There is a feeling of worked muscles and a healthy body, a body that can still move and function-however slowly. If nothing else running reminds me that I'm still alive. Alive, even with complaints and aches and pains. Alive, even though some would say I'm lacking. Lacking in speed and distance. Some would say I don't have enough gear to be a runner, some would say I'm not enough. That's when I pull on my $20 shoes and head out the door telling the world "I am enough. I am here. I am alive and I am running!"