It's April. I didn't plan for April. Didn't budget for it time, life, another turn of the page. And still spring showed up like it always does. Cherry blossoms in D.C. soft and impossible and right on time. They didn't ask if I'd still be here. They just arrived. The body has opinions now. Strong ones. A cane I didn't plan for. Limits. Pauses. Negotiations with stairs and distance and energy I used to spend without thinking. Everything is a choice now. Even getting up. Even staying. I measure things differently. Not in years. Not in plans. In moments I decide to take. In conversations I choose to finish. In steps I decide are worth it. I know how this ends. That part isn't abstract anymore. But here's the part I didn't plan for— April. Light coming back. Trees blooming like nothing is wrong. And me, still here inside it. Not by accident. Not by default. By choice. Too stubborn to leave early