Summer is Coming Again

Today we did a three-mile walk with hills. We were huffing and puffing but moving at a pretty good pace. As we made the turn to come back home I said to John, “Do you remember the summer after your first surgery; you could not walk from our front door to the car.” And he remembered. It’s a shock still, how that cutting into flesh and being sewn back together took away so much strength so fast. He looked the same but could not walk at all.

Now we hike and do hills and push each other on.

That summer of chemo changed so many things. No movies, no malls, no grocery stores. Even a tiny bit of air-conditioned air caused excruciating pain and frozen breath. He couldn’t even look in the refrigerator so I had to learn to cook. That was one of the gifts of Cancer Land—I became a cook. But that summer when it all began was so shocking and crazy.

I think about this today as we hike and run and dress for a dinner out. So many things changed. We grew from them and with them. I know that isn’t everyone’s path. Cancer can end a relationship as well. It can be too much. And no one gets blamed for that. It can just be too dam hard sometimes. So what I feel tonight is gratitude and grace.

Family on the Beach

We are back from the beach and salt water hair and not enough sunblock and too much ice cream. This weekend felt like old fashioned summertime. Visiting John's mother with loads of extra family added including two babies which just make you smile constantly. Beach walks, family talks, too much food and then some bonus time alone on the beach. Rumors of sharks made it more exciting and real sitings of schools of seals made it sweet.

Somehow we got to here which includes in-laws that I love, family stories that we are part of now, and an ease with past and present both real and normal.

Came home to news of two deaths--a friend to cancer and a former colleague to medication errors. In its own sad comparative way that made the weekend sweeter too. Life is short. The reminders are all around us. I still worry about every little thing and work too hard and want the writing to be "just-so" and then I think, "just for today".

It's a good summer this year. I'm glad we are in it.

Summer Plans

We sit with calendars and block out vacation. It is a mixed blessing though. If I don’t claim some definite time off from work the summer will fly by and I’ll never see the beach or have real vacation as a couple. But when we sit to plan and mark off the days: this one for the beach and that one for the city and that one for the family event and then times to go see dance and theater and music –and now we add golf and swimming...suddenly we are turning the pages and saying "save that date” and we are looking at Labor Day. I do not want to wish—or worry—or plan my summer away. Where are the lazy, hazy days? Where is genuine leisure?