...Lace Up Your Gloves...

It's a beautiful, 64-degree day here in Phoenix. This is the weather people come out here for. None of that below-freezing, cover-your-citrus junk. This is the good stuff. The sun is shining, my hair is growing (albeit slowly), and as I took a modified figure eight walk around the lakes with the dogs, I found myself loving the fact that I had a spring in my step again, I wasn't short of breath, my legs didn't feel like they were encased in concrete, and even though this nagging cold is almost gone, I can still breathe deeply, and yes, exhale.

First of of all, it's amazing how you miss the company you are used to at certain times. My partner in crime/love of my life is off for parts north and training this week, so it's just me and the puppers holding down the fort until Thursday. A MUCH better week (not that any time is my favorite week) for him to be traveling, as the house is painted, the swelling is all but gone, and I'm moving around at nearly 100% after the surgery. Anyhow, all parties involved missed him on our walk.

I let my mind wander to random subjects as we walked along. What would I have for dinner tonight? (Beautiful left over vegetable soup/stew that Alice made for us last week.) Is there anything I have to go out in the world for? (I don't think so, but that could change after a shower.) Did I forget anything in the SOQ I put together this morning? (Most likely not - anyhow, it's my day off, things can be dealt with tomorrow.) Now that we have a temporary restraining order against chemo and all things cancer, what's next? (The million dollar question.)

Well, we live.

I'm still coming back - I know that. I have strength to regain, eyelashes to sprout, leg hairs to eventually shave, scans to have, bloodwork to be taken, praying to be done. As I'm writing this, a song comes on our favorite cable music station and while I've had it on as background music all day, suddenly the words of this one catch my attention.

"...There is a light in your eyes, in your eyes
Breathe in and breathe out..."

I'm probably taking the lyrics entirely out of context, but they just struck a chord with me. Breathe in and breathe out. I've got a lot of work to do, still, but it's so damn nice to be able to breathe again. I know when the time comes for another scan I'm sure I'll be panic-stricken at the thought of the unknown. Or, maybe I won't. What I do know, whether this fact surprises me or not, is that I am not going to spend the time in between wondering about the what-ifs. I'd rather spend it with Greg, and the pups, and friends, and family. I'd rather spend it laughing so hard that my eyes tear, and watching the transformations in the mirror as I continue to return to me. I'd prefer to spend it sheepishly smiling at the fact that he always knew I'd bounce back quickly, and that the weight would fall off, the hair would grow back, the fingernails would return to normalcy, and the dark circles would subside. I suppose, after all, that's why he never lost sight of the person behind the crap. He knew she was never far away.

Each little step, each little victory - they buy me time and remind me how precious this life we have is, and how fortunate I am, despite the prices I have paid at times, to be exactly where I am.

Right. Now.

(Well, I'd be happier if I could walk in the other room and give Greg a big squeeze, but the fact that it'll only be a couple of days until I can do so means that my previous statement still stands. )

So, tonight? I look forward to calling Liz and having a phone-glass.
And hearing that my boy has landed safely. Ironically, 3o minutes away from Liz and Sa.
And I'll say a prayer of thanks, and one of hope.
And one for Deanna.