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My Scottish Terrier, Duff, sleeping in his favorite spot on the couch.

My Scottish Terrier, Duff, sleeping in his favorite spot on the couch.

Daily Prompt: The Normal

Is being “normal” — whatever that means to you — a good thing, or a bad thing? Neither?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us EVERYDAY.

What exactly is “normal”?

I wrestle with that question every day. I yearn to be it. I see others living the normal life, free of the health problems and issues I face. They are so happy. So carefree. So unafraid. Out and about enjoying the days and nights without a worry of how much pain moving around is causing their body. They don’t have to.

They’re normal! Their bodies are a cohesive working machine!

Is that what it is to be normal?

Or, am I the normal one? Sick for days at a time in bed. Unable to move, eat, or sleep. Pale white and frail. Bone marrow that hates my body and protests against producing blood to supply the rest of my body. Bruising like a fragile fruit or flower with the slightest touch. Hardly an immune system to speak of. Who needs one of those, anyway? They’re for yuppies!

My normal? My body is currently on strike.

All I know is “normal” in my life is love. Love of my family, friends, and my animals. Duff, for example, is part of that normalcy. It’s common to find him every day lounging on the couch, fast asleep. Calm, comfortable, and snoring. It’s precious. It’s part of my small, seemingly insignificant life. It is what makes my life resemble something normal.