Con limón y sal

Dear 7N, My new daily commute now includes a 7:00am trip westbound on the Banfield into town, and as I round the bend after the 53rd Avenue overpass, I see your tower quietly waking behind the cloud of steam that rises from the generators below. I can pick out the seventh floor easily…I know it well, from the inside and out. Most of the lights in the Cancer Center are still off at that early hour, but there are almost always several lighting the morning commute from the seventh floor. When I took up temporary residency with you, mine was always one of them. I remember those mornings with a shudder, a tear, and such clarity that it’s hard to believe that more than a year and a half have passed since I spent the first one waking up to a beeping IV machine, a dose of Dilaudid to ease the pain, and vitals and weight check visit from a gentle CNA. Sitting here writing this still makes my heart rate rise with nervous energy. I see your morning lights, and, if traffic is slowing my tri