It's almost Christmas, and I'm just not feeling it. I have a few paltry decorations up, but can't put up my tree because the puppy would destroy it - she is 60 lbs of destruction. I don't know if that's it, though. The boys will be with their dad, and I have no plans. I may see this fella I've been seeing, but it's so early for something like that.
A few days ago was her 19th birthday - my best friend's daughter. Last week we learned one of her cancer markers went up. It wasn't totally unexpected; she'd reduced her chemo so she could actually have a life. But it was hard to hear. She'd been feeling pretty good, and when your kid is sick (or your friend's kid) you just take tiny specks of hope where you can, and try to turn them in to giant orbs burning with dreams of the future. That blood test brought reality back.
So her birthday...I cried that day. Because I think - and I'm sure she and her family do to - "What if this is her last one?" We don't really know how long it will take this cancer to kill her; we only know that it very likely will. So every birthday, holiday, everything is the most bittersweet thing I've ever seen.
Her younger sister wrote an essay about the cancer ordeal that won an award. She won't let any of her family or friends read it. I get it. A lot of my writing when I was young was about losing my mom, and I was ok with writing for teachers or contests, but I doubt I could have shared it with those closest to me. She's such a precocious kid - I am sure it was a brilliant and sad piece. I wish I could read it, but I respect her desire for privacy over it.
In spite of these things, I'm actually pretty happy most of the time. I've had some losses, but on balance I'm ok. And as horrible as the last couple of years were, I'll take it.
