It's 12:40 and I am staring at a picture of a street covered with snow that someone has sent to my husband. It's a bright, peaceful picture, mostly white with the exception of a sign on the street that reads : No Parking This Side. I imagine the photographer could have moved five feet ahead to as to not obscure the sereneness of the picture. However looking ahead, there's a man either entering or exiting his car past the sign, one bright light shining from his car. I guess the photographer made a choice here. This picture was not going to get anymore perfect. And maybe that's why the photographer has sent my husband this as a postcard...a beautiful scene, but not one to keep.
It's 12:50 and I"m thinking, no, my mind is racing with thoughts. I want it to be quiet as snow.
I have breast cancer. My hair is beginning to fall out in strands. The chemo is not as bad as I thought it would be, but it's not great and I keep comparing it to pregnancy. People are not looking at me like I'm pregnant. This is not pregnancy. And today I saw myself through their eyes. I have a three-year old son. I am 35. This is not supposed to be happening to me! I am brave. I smile. I laugh. But I never forget I have this lump. I never forget that I am close to losing it all and surviving at the same time. I can't sleep, but I will. There are a few obstacles in my pretty picture right now, but they belong there, too. I try to remember that the picture is mostly pretty.
No comments:
Post a Comment