Things trended down when my doctor uttered a couple of words I didn't like. Cancer cells.
And then, and then.
He offered hope in the form of surgery, recovery, and a challenge.
Hope is a funny thing.
And so is irony.
Years ago...I'm talking high school...I forgot to return a library book.
Okay, forgot is a strong word. More like, refused. Because I liked a quote and kept it.
Thanks, Em.
Turns out, this life is all about traveling from hope to hope. It's the thing with feathers, perching inside us, ready to sing, never stopping...it's the thing that gets us from cancer cells to taking in the joy of his smile, her chatter, his silly riddles, their slap happy laughter.
I've spent the summer basically with my grandchildren. After a quick trip to Mexico to get most of my stomach removed, I've been healing, and hoping, and reaching for a firm grasp on what the rest of my life might be like P.C. Post cancer.
And it looks pretty good. Actually, it looks way past good.
I'm heading north, joy to joy. Getting younger every day. Not planning to stop at all.
