How do you measure a year?

 

In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee?

In inches? In miles? In laughter? In strife?

How about love.

525,600 minutes. 8,760 hours. 365 days. 52 weeks. 12 months. 1 year.

It has been one year since I got my double-lung transplant. You know, the one that saved my life and all that jazz. It is so hard to believe that one year ago I got a second chance at life, one that so few people get. One that I won’t waste.

This has been one of the best years of my life. I finally completed a semester of college. I wore a bikini for the first time in 10 years. I ran a mile without coughing. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I put myself out there. I took risks.

But with every gain comes a loss. Nothing is perfect. Logan’s health has gotten worse. I lost my grandmother, Mimi. I lost my childhood dog, Moose. I lost my post-transplant dog, Margot, way too soon. I got hurt, heartbroken, and frustrated.

Through it all, though, I was surrounded by those I love and those who love me. My coworkers, who a crazy and frustrating, but some of the best people I know. My friends, who always know how to make me smile. My family, who are the best support system. And you, the people who read my blog and have followed my journey since the worst time in my life.

I could measure this year in daylights, which were full of easy breathing.

I could measure this year in sunsets, which consisted mostly of me running around Bonefish.

I could measure this year in midnights, most of which I spent with friends.

I could measure this year in cups of coffee, but let’s face it, that’s an impossible figure to calculate. Its probably around 100.

Love seems like the best option. It surrounded me this year. I felt it in everything I did. I felt it with every single breath I took with these lungs. Love is the only reason I am here. My donor’s family loved him or her enough to donate organs.The love of my doctors to give me a chance. My family’s love that refused to give up. Everyone who gave their love to keep my family going. The true love of my friends that kept them with me even when they could have turned away. The love I have for myself and this life. It kept me from letting go. I love all that I have and all that I have been given.

There are many ways to measure a year. Inches, miles, laughter, strife. I hope you always choose to measure your years in positives. In people you’ve met. In kisses or hugs. In times that you laughed. In movies you’ve seen. In meals you’ve eaten. In breaths. Whatever you choose, let it remind you of all the good that is in your life. If all still seems lost, just have hope. Once you choose hope, anything is possible.

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