Years ago it was cancer at Christmas. The first surgery. The news about chemo. Having hope at the holidays. I found that old blog post “Christmas Past” this week. I am surprised that we were able to be so be happy then while we were in the thick of it. And surprising to remember that we found serenity and sensuality even in those first few forays into
Here is the old post from our first year in Cancerland:
“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 is different: Adopt-a-Family gifts, cooking, wrapping, shopping Amazon last minute, the annual trip to buy my mother-in-law’s gift, texting the kids, realizing that the new family we made in that isolated first year has become the real family, and that we continue to love and be loved. For all of this we are so grateful.
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