Monday, August 29, 2016

Flying Into a Cancer Countdown

Sometimes in life you get to fly.

You stand on a surfboard and balance on the wave. Your skis sketch the powdered surface of a mountain, barely touching the snow. You sit at the bottom of a pool in a warm, watery silence like a jellyfish in a soft, safe blur. You lie on your back in a meadow and feel your soul moving with the clouds to the sweet smell of grass. Or you just hear the music of your child's voice who, for the moment, is entirely, 100%, happy.   

Oh hold on. Terminal Cancer! What? Really? Me? Oh. Actually, maybe not. Or maybe so?

There is a time here in Virginia, USA, where the earth stands still. 
It only happens once in a summer, (not every summer), after a rain, the clouds are so thick, the sun is so bright. But the sun is only in the RIGHT spot for this event for One Day. 
As the sun sets, the entire landscape turns a bright neon yellow.  The plants, after the rain, are happy and breathing and growing before dusk. But you can SEE them grow and breathe. 
Like an old English legend where animals can talk on Christmas Eve--on this day, you can hear and understand the plants. But the entire sky and EVERYTHING is bathed in a completely impossible shade of neon yellow.

My husband had forgotten the years before. He watches too much news, so the intense neon glow made him worry.

Me, I stepped out away from the house. I could feel and hear the plants and trees growing, just as I have done before, just as our people in Kansas can actually hear the corn growing. Been there, done that, very cool!  


With two steps off into the grass and with an eye on the sky, I was flying, growing with the plants around me in the thick cloud neon bright grow light wonderland that happened for a moment that I could step into.

You would think, as a terminal cancer person, that every minute counts. It DOES, but sometimes it doesn't count for much. With a hubby and kids you just ride the wave a little. Some minutes are spent cleaning out the dryer filter. Some minutes are spent trying to unclog the drain. Eleven months to live. . . I still need to vacuum the house.  Kid flips attitude for a day. . . that's one whole day in my countdown, not many of those left.

I know that I need to focus on my family
But I can fly so easily. . . just one step into the grass at the right light and I'm there.