At the park yesterday, a mommy-friend asked me, “Now that you’re cancer-free, what happens to the blog?” I was caught off-guard at first. Of course, I’m going to keep writing. Of course, I’m going to keep visiting everyone else’s blogs. Of course, I’m going to BlogHer (whoo-hoo!) and learn how to get even more out of this experience, become a better writer, and whatever else comes with it.
But I’ve found myself the last few days soaking up more and more of life instead.
When my preschooler clings to my legs, saying, “Don’t go, Mommy, don’t go. I just want to be wif you,” I stay.
When the baby reaches his arms up to me for a lift, I gladly swoop down and pick him up with my good arm, swinging him around the room.
When the weather is as gorgeous as it’s been the last two days, we have just put on our shoes and gone for a walk with the neighbors. (2 miles today! Un-freakin-believable!).
When I get a moment after both babies are asleep and in bed, if I haven’t fallen asleep with them, I slather my radiation cream on and breathe a sigh of relief.
When I run into people I haven’t seen in a while, I tell them my good news.
When my mind wanders, it wanders to the wonderful parts of life, like my supportive and loving husband, friends who celebrate with me and a planned trip to the beach this summer. All very, very ordinary things.
But as I lay on the hammock last night with my child, dusk falling around us and birds beginning to settle into their nests, I realized that there is more yet to write. Yes, there is recovery yet ahead of me (oh, if you could see the radiation burns scarring my chest, you would weep); there are tests and scans not yet done (3 months from now, just before BlogHer, we’ll know if there’s any little cancers hiding in my bones, liver, or lungs); but there is also the very real celebration of the ordinary, the everyday delights that I have ahead of me.
And that, for me, is a bit of what I will write about in the coming months.
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