I’ve got rainbows all over my walls. Nana bought Rae a crystal to hang in the window, so from noon to 2 p.m. little exploded spectrum pieces float along my living room walls. At first it was distracting. Today, the irony hit me like a—well, like an exploding spectrum.
Promises. They’re promises.
“You have time” the colorful flickers whisper as they dance around the big living room clock. It’s tempting to fear death and cancer after two battles with Hodgkins Lymphoma. For so long I toiled away at the soil of my days, accomplishing tasks because I feared death, not because the tasks fueled my joy. I gardened so my kiddos had memories of a pretty yard to play in before I died, leaving sepia shades of sadness where the green once grew. I planted and harvested so their growing bodies stayed strong. What will happen to their diets when I’m not here to balance it all? They’ll already have so much to overcome (with a dead mom and all), a good nutritional start is the least I can do. Somehow I know a better yard will make me better too, I just know it.
I kept journals of all their quirks, likes, dislikes, joys, sorrows. Not to offer a fun bird’s eye view of their childhood for them to read as adults, but so David’s new wife, or any caretaker, could read their journals as cheat sheets. How heartbreaking.
But I’m not dying, at least not today. Today I am alive, and so are you!
Today I have time to pull a weed because it calms me, plant a seed because it excites me, or harvest a flower because it inspires me.
Today I journal about their days and hearts BECAUSE MY CHILDREN ARE SPECIAL, and I want them to know that.
Today we only need to accomplish the next loving act, one act at a time. And thank God we will always have the time and ability to do that. What’s your next loving step? (Mine is to buff away my dead heel skin while watching some trashy TV.) Now go, you Love Hulk, step into the promise that Light and Love will surround you always. Step into the promise of Love conquering all, even death. And probably politics.