Every Crow In Dallas

Today, every crow in Dallas decided to sit on the power lines outside the grocery store like they were filming a Stranger Things cameo.

Maybe it’s just my obsession with the show resurfacing, but it felt like the universe was dropping a hint: the world is upside down, again.

But you know what else felt strangely revitalizing?

The little things were big again.

I looked up from my damn phone.
I smiled at a stranger driving through the parking lot—and paid attention long enough to catch their smile back.
I had a full conversation with the cashier while checking out—suddenly, there was no need to rush.

And in these little moments, for the first time in a long time, I felt… really f**king alive.
Pardon my French, it was a very long day.

So why do I feel this way?

Today, I had another medical scare. Yes, the kind that starts with that fun little letter “C.” Again.

When I first heard the news, my whole body froze. Fear rushed back like muscle memory, and I cried harder than I have in a long time. Suddenly, I wasn't worried about my accounting exam in a couple hours or my grades.

I was worried about my life.

I spiraled. I called my boyfriend and dad a million times. I hugged my friends extra tight. I needed reassurance over and over again.

And yet, here I am now, walking out of the grocery store, just hours after the doctor’s phone call, feeling something completely different.

Really f**cking alive.

I don’t know what’s next. But from what I learned last time, the scare is always the worst part—the wondering, the waiting, the part where your mind jumps to every conclusion on very little basis at all.

But right now?

Right now I feel strangely grateful. It’s been so long since I had to worry about the security of my actual life that somewhere along the way, I started worrying about the security of everything in my life — school, grades, timing, what-ifs, tiny stresses that pretend to be big ones.

How privileged — and honestly, how crazy — to live a life that precious and spend it worrying about things that small.

Today gave me something real to worry about. And because of that, all the little things fell away.

And I really wasn’t alone.

I had the support system I built on the other side of my last “C”razy moment. I had friends who caught me. And I had someone else too — someone really special.

Mr. International.

I have to give him a shout-out here. He is really freaking good at this stuff.

He leaned in when he could’ve backed away. He said all the right things at all the right times. He made me laugh through tears I didn’t think would ever stop. And even though all I wanted to do was cry, I found myself humming to his song he kept bringing out— in highest hopes and deepest efforts to ease the spiral:

Don’t worry. Be happy.

I am still laughing just thinking about him trying to sing it.

And then his words—simple, precious, perfect:

“Don’t worry about life… just enjoy it while you have one.”
“Sometimes you just need time.”

And somehow, through that silly little song, his steady smile that I could hear through the phone, and his quiet certainty, he brought me back to a higher self—to the version of me who learned that health scares aren’t punishments.

They’re reminders.

Reminders that this strange, unpredictable, dynamic life is really only worth living if you’re actually living it.

I am so grateful to have an emergency line that treats emergencies like remembrances. And I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by people who make even the upside-down feel safe.

Hud’s Note:
This entry was written in real time. An abnormal scan raised biopsy concerns. After discussing results with my doctor a few days later, I learned that precancerous cells do not mean cancerous (they really need a new name). As I predicted, the scare is always the worst part.