Monday, April 27, 2009

Life goes on.

We had a beautiful weekend. It was hot. It was sunny. We worked. We celebrated. I know it's psychological. It has to be. Having a whole month off from the cancer center has provided me with time to think about other things besides cancer. Tremendously freeing. 'Graduating' from treatment is a big boost to my spirits. I realize that the milestone means little. Is the cancer gone for good? Dunno. But I've completed a grueling round of treatment that is supposed to make a recurrence less likely. Cancer is a funny thing. You look at your own mortality square in the face, and it is unnerving. Somewhere along the line, I figured out that each of us live until we die. It's the same for all of us. Any person could sit around obsessing about the end, about how they will die. To do so is a waste of life.

This weekend I looked a lot. I paid attention. A cardinal caught my eye, a bright spot of red in the pale green of the buds. It was pretty. When we were getting firewood, the view was magnificent, one mountain rolling into another, to another, and on and on as far as the eye could see. And speaking of firewood, we will have to take a small break. We need about two more cord of wood for next winter, but Tim noticed that a nest had been built in the rafters of the woodshed. We could hear the parent robins having a fit outside as we unloaded the wood. There are three bright blue eggs in the nest. We stopped after only unloading half the wood, so as not to keep the robins away from the nest that means so much to them. We can unload the other half another day. I baked brownies and two chocolate truffle tortes for the desert sale today at church. On the surface of it, life goes on as it always has. What is different, I think, is me. It's hard to explain, really. It's as if I have wrapped life around me like a warm shawl, admiring the pattern of it, the colors, the softness of the material. I've buried my face in it, inhaling deep of the fragrance. And sometimes, I twirl with my arms outstretched, simply to enjoy the way the fringe swings with me.

5 comments:

A Novel Woman said...

Gosh, I LOVE your writing. (sigh) The fringe swinging just made me smile....

Kelly said...

You sound quite content with life, Debby. I'm happy for you. Yes, I'm sure you ARE a different person now, but a "good" different!

There's a sparrow nest in the back of my newspaper tube. When I go for my paper in the morning or get my mail later in the day (it's attached to my mailbox), the mama bird flies out to warn me away. I always feel bad, but I have to get my paper and mail!

Daria said...

I agree ... each of us live until we die ... no one really knows.

Peg Stino said...

Thoroughed enjoyed reading your story and really liked your article in the Saturday (4/25) Times Observer, I really could identify with much that you said. Read your blog and congratulate you on completing your round of chemo and your outlook on life, take it one day at a time and be thankful for everything we have, wish more people could realize that.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for this lovely post Deb. It really talks. I especially love the image of life wrapped around us like a shawl. I think that image will stay with me. Also loved the story of the robins.
I agree with the reality check that cancer is and in a perverse sort of way it is an experience that I felt I could have done without whilst at the same time appreciating the awareness of life and fellowship with others it has given me.
Sometimes we need to wrap that shawl close and at other times run with it flying free. We never know what experiences are going to be the 'growing' ones do we? Keep on flying! Barb