Grannie Pam asks "What are your top three favorite moments from your mom's weekend?" "I can't come up with just three," I tell her. "Share one then," She implores. But I can't... its not one, its not three. Its all of them. How do you describe all of them?
Reality intrudes. I walk into Roger Maris for blood work early this Monday morning. The receptionist is new. She can't get my pager to work. I wait, my mind not fully present with my reality.
I've been submerged. I've been initiated... cleansed... baptized... in the waters of sisterhood.
I've been revitalized, restored, refreshed.
We've giggled, cross legged with tears streaming.
We've danced and sang.
We've floated and drifted- pulling ourselves back together each time one gets too far away. Her foot rests on my floatie, my hand secures her on the other side of me.
We stayed up late pouring out our stories to each other.
We became vessels for the triumphs, the sorrows, the burdens of each other.
We've come to lay it down. The kids, the husbands, the jobs, the demands, the work.
Cancer world washes off me like water rolls off the back of a duck. They take it from me.
It all floats away in the wake left behind by the waves and evaporates in the sun.
We anchor each other.
We buoy each other.
We write a new chapter. Each voice rings true. Each character valued, admired, cherished. The novel unfolds as the layers peel back. Its funny and honest. Raw and real. Fifty Shades of awesome. A true page turner nobody wants to end.
Heidi, Heidi, Nicki, Nichi, Amy, Judy, Shauna, Grannie...
I hear my name being called. The lab tech has come for me... She asks if I've fasted and points to the 4 tubes ready for my blood. I slowly shake my head no... I'm still emerging from the sanctity of the water. My body longs to dive down to the depths of the clear sandy bottom, while my lungs fight for air. I break the surface of the water, blinking into the light, steeling myself for my entry back into cancer world.