I love my mom. I took this foto of her the Saturday after my first chemo cycle. She stopped her busy life of work and citywide volunteer coordinating to come be with me for cancer treatment for 2 weeks and ended up staying 3 months. The last day of the first 5-day chemo cycle, we left the hospital and I drove her to the lighthouse where I fotographed her at my favorite place near the water. I love that we had this time together just the two of us and that she knew I needed her even when I didn’t.
Home is where this smile is. My daughter is home for me. For 20 years, I’ve built our nest around laughter and love.
… whole as I enter the new year. I speak this over my body. My body that is working hard to make good cells after chemo and radiation. I speak this over my mind. My mind that fights against the tide of memory of what has been lost. I speak this over my spirit. My spirit self that is ravenous to be filled, but not hold on to trauma.
I’ve focused a lot of energy, of late, on a return to my old self. It’s how I marked the days during radiation and chemotherapy. But what if I never feel the way I did the months, weeks, days, seconds keading up to my cancer diagnosis? What if my wellness journey means a new and different me? What if some of the things I used to love don’t move me so much anymore, but are replaced with new things to love and feel gratitude for? I had to ask myself these questions when considering my word for 2018. What word do I want to speak over my life for the coming year? I want to be well. I want to be strong. But I want the regeneration of my cells to come back not just as they were, but stronger and more resilient. I want ro be made anew. That means I have to be open to change and looking toward the unexpected. I think I am.
Life. All of it. The mess of it. The questions. The lessons. The indecision. The baptism by fire and learning on the fly. The squabbles. The joy. The unbridled glee. The clamor. The silence. The negotiation and inevitable compromise. The wealth and the bankrupt. The maps drawn, erased, and replotted. The missions. The road trips. The destinations. The arrivals. The departures. The attraction. The initiation. The invitation. The aggravation. The love. The love. The love. The blood. The bruise. The broken things. The ties and rings. The infinite. The seasonal. The flowers. The photographs. The music. The dance. The promenade of it. The band playing it again. The songs. The sunlight. The wind. The tide and desert. The things that prick and bite and itch. The crevass. The distance. The mountain. The cold. The water. The weight. The love. The love. The love. The whole of it. The renewal. The tomorrow.