Almost Normal

For the past four weeks things have seemed almost normal. November, December, and January felt as if we were in a nose dive heading straight for earth. Then something happened, in the canyon we leveled off parallel to earth but very very close, gliding, wondering when the fuel will run out, while we try to appreciate the view. Sunday I finished a scrapbook layout, something I haven't done since the week before August 20, 2012.  Melanoma man made dinner. The sun came out after a week of rain and running the pump in our back yard to keep the water from coming in the house. I went for a walk on the beach with my Stephen minister, Kathy.

I ran into a friend at church last Wednesday night. She has been asking if she could bring dinner for the last 3 months and every time I have said no. This week I said "YES." I put it on the calendar and Melanoma Man asked me: "Is this because of the cancer?" Well yes it is. So there.

Saturday I met a friend and we went to have manicures and pedicures. Well that's not normal for me, that's new normal.  I made Mother's Day cards for my two moms, birth and adoptive. Melanoma Man and I sat on the sofa and talked about a workshop for caregivers he attended  on Saturday. Admittedly he said I should have attended. I'll get the book.

I saw the new quarter sized black lesion on his right leg, trying to take in as much detail as I could, comparing it with the images in my brain of his past keratoacanthomas, melanomas, basal cell carcinomas, squamous cell carcinomas. This one appears to be a breed I haven't seen before. There is no reference for it in my brain. The blackness, along with another black patch worry me. I try to avert my eyes and Carry On as if I have seen nothing. His next appointment at Moffitt is next week. They will figure it out. I don't have to. Images of all the dressings I've changed, stitches I've removed, waiting rooms I've waited in flit across the screen. I try to turn it off. Be here now. Be here now. Four weeks at a time between cancer center visits, I tell myself: "Don't waste this time."  As if I can grieve ahead in advance of bad news.

This morning I wake up and remember our wedding day, fifteen years ago today, just down the street in what was then my parent's home. We packed a whole lot of living into these years.

Songs of Easter

Up at my usual weekday wake up time, 5:40 a.m., this Easter Sunday morning. The boys were surprisingly easy to get out of bed. Fifty five degrees out and a clear sky. We bundled into the van with our folding chairs and jackets, heading for the beach. I walk on the beach every week with Kathy, my Stephen minister. She says faith in God comes easier when you are looking at the ocean or the Alps. I haven't been to the Alps yet.

Easter service started at 6:45 this morning, in the dark with this song: Here is Our King, followed by In the Name of Love. The songs broke through and I felt it all. Most days I am a kite barely tethered by my kite string to the reality of my day to day. That way of living has it's pluses and minuses. I can still see what's going on, but I can't feel anything good or bad. Today thankful that oldest son, imac, carried Melanoma Man's chair to the beach for him, this time unprompted by me.

By 9:45 a.m. the boys (imac and Butter) and I are at a friend's Easter Egg hunt. I am surprised that imac at twelve is willing and eager to participate. Halloween was a no go this year, " I'm too old for that Mom." I wonder what the critical difference is between Halloween and an Easter Egg hunt that makes the egg hunt plausible for this twelve year old boy. No costume required? That could be it. imac announces in the back of the car, "I like to help the little kids who can't find any eggs." Hmm, altruism. Happily, at the end of the hunt I find him sitting on the lawn sorting through and tasting his candy just like any other "little kid."

There is no special meal at our house for Easter, which I think is just as well. Yesterday Melanoma Man went looking for a leg of lamb at Winn Dixie and came home empty handed. "Yet another reason I don't like Winn Dixie," he said. Our local Publix has been torn down. A new one to be built in it's place. I am relieved, not so secretly. I can't stand lamb or the smell of it, nor can the kids. No special meal to prepare, Melanoma Man can sit on the couch and watch golf this afternoon, eating Tostitos with Winn Dixie Chipotle salsa, the one thing Winn Dixie does right. He is flu-ish and achey today, as he is two or three days of each week.

imac, Butter and I spend the afternoon in our backyard playing badminton with no net and soccer with no goals. I'm not terribly coordinated or athletic. They don't care. I think they just enjoy seeing me play, laughing at their goofy mom, having no agenda or "to do" list.

In the evening we watch Meet the Robinsons, which is one of my all time favorite movies. I haven't seen a "real" movie in about 12 years, since imac was born. Just Pixar and Disney. The movie ends with this song: Little Wonders. My day has been filled with them, these small hours, the little wonders. Best of all I showed up for them.