Years ago it was cancer at
Christmas. The first surgery. The news about chemo. Having hope at the
holidays. I found this blog post from Christmas Past tonight and I’m sharing it
here. It’s good to remember that we were able to be so be happy even then, even
in the thick of it, and that we found serenity and sensuality even in those
first few steps into CancerLand.
Here is the old post:
“It’s all here. Love and
carols, candlelight service at the United Methodist Church last night, sleeping
late and making love through the morning, a sponge bath then washing his hair
over the side of the tub—he cannot get the stitches wet for three more days—a
walk in the neighborhood, opening gifts—books and music, and tickets and
clothes for both of us. These are the things we have shared and talked about
from the first day we met. Cashmere and satin and a collection of erotic poetry
keep the love alive. We cook dinner together: Cornish game hens with smooth
small breasts, artichokes to slide through our teeth, potatoes soaked with
butter and garlic and chocolate mousse. Christmas together. We never thought
we’d see this. But here it is. We have both cancer and Christmas and it is
enough.”
This year’s Christmas Eve is a little different: Adopt-a-Family gifts, cooking, wrapping, (cursing the tape dispenser), texting the kids, cajoling the siblings, turning off the phone for private sensual solitude. Both of us laughing; we are this grateful.
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