Heavy

Last week was a bad week.  Emotional, sad, tiring...heavy.

My aunt passed away after a long, tough battle with ovarian cancer.  It wasn't a shock, it was expected, and her passing was a blessing after the pain and suffering she had endured.  Doesn't make it less sad.

We took Gatsby in for a lump, that we assumed was nothing.  Turned out it was cancer.  He had to have surgery to remove it, x-rays to see if it had spread.

I got a letter from Ainsley's school saying she was falling behind.  That she should probably attend summer school to stay on target.  A form letter.  In May.  Nothing personal or informative, just a basic template with her name written in to the blank space.

That was Tuesday.

It was a heavy day.  A day that I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, snuggle under the covers, and watch reruns of Friends until laughter replaced tears and the growing knot in my stomach dissipated.  But Clif was in Boston for work and there were three little people that needed to eat and stuff...so, I pulled up my big girl panties and marched my way through the evening until it was bedtime and I could sit down and work on the things I wasn't able to focus on at work that day.

But thank God for them, right?  They do make me laugh and keep me on task and give me something to occupy my time when the heavy takes up residence on my chest.  Somehow, with all the responsibility that comes with raising three children, they lighten the load in the emotional department.

Things have gotten better.  I finally worked up the nerve and found the words to email Ainsley's principal.  We are currently in an exciting game of phone tag.  Gatsby's tests all came back positively.  The lump was removed, the cancer had not spread, and the Vet believes that he's cured.  And Sue?  Well, she's soaring with the best of them.  No longer a slave to her sick body.

But here I am, a week later still feeling heavy.  Still wondering why life can be so damn hard at times.  Why everything seems to come crashing down at once.  One of the great universal mysteries.  I know it will pass.  The heaviness will be replaced with love and laughter.  You can't feel great happiness without great sadness.  The ying and the yang.  You take the good, you take the bad...

Life is one big flipping coin.  Heads or tails.  You never know how it will land.  If you'll be a big winner or loser that day.  But one thing's for sure, you've got a 50/50 chance either way.

Just a Dream

The path in front of me curves around a lake.  The weather is perfect.  I can feel the sun heating my face.  I'm not wearing sunglasses but I'm not squinting or shading my eyes.  The brightness is pure and glowing, not blinding and harsh.  There is a slight breeze gently whispering past my ears, but otherwise it is quite.  There seems to be no one in this park except me and the stroller filled with soft pink blankets.

As I proceed around the bend, the lake is to my right, and up ahead on my left is a small clearing in the trees.  There sits a bench and on the bench sits a woman.  I can't make out her features but I know who it is and I can feel her warm smile even from this distance.

In a moment I am standing in front of her.  She is looking up at me with her wide grin and she looks the same.  Wonderfully the same.  She is not the sick woman with a swollen face and bald head.  She is not that fragile being I remember hugging all those years ago, not knowing it would be the last time.  She is strong, like I remember from my youth.  She is the woman who baked spaghetti sauce all day on Sundays, who made jam on her back porch from the berries we had picked, who canned the sweetest corn.  Even now, all these years later, I can close my eyes and recall the precise smell of that sauce, the exact sweetness of that jam and the firm texture of that corn.

She is beautiful and she is looking at me like I am her everything.  It is exactly the look I remember from her, the inviting smile that always made me feel safe and special.  I never doubted her love for me.  I never doubted that I was special to her.  So much so, that sometimes I'm convinced she loved me the most...thought I was the most special.  Right now, I need that confidence.  I need her to hug me and make me feel like everything will be okay.  Reassure me that my world isn't crashing.

The baby is crying now.  She stands and touches my cheek.  Then she turns and gently lifts the pink bundle out of the stroller.  She stares down into the blanket and smiles.  The sobs fade as the small being melts into the creases of her elbows and softness of her chest.

I open my mouth to protest, but she stops me.

It's okay.  I'll take care of her.

Knowing what that means forces hot tears out of my eyes and down my face.  I lean in to look at the small baby in her arms, but she pulls her close, shakes her head slowly and takes a step backwards.

She'll be safe with me.

I take one step back.  Her smile grows as she floats further and further from where I stand until all I can make out is the bright light in her eyes.  I want to remember this moment.  A moment that isn't quite real. I want to remember this light, this smile, these promises.

Mommy?

Mommy?

The sun is peeking in through the window and playing across my eyes.  I squint and blink away the sharp edge of the light.

Mommy?

Ainsley's nose is almost touching mine.

Mommy?  Why are you twying?

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and force a smile.  My grandmother's sweet face still fills my mind and though my doctor's appointment is 2 days away, I already know.  The vision of my grandmother provides a small sliver of peace.  But the sadness and the fear are heavy on my chest.  The knowing is hard, like a knife pushing deep in my gut, relentless and without mercy.

Why are you twying mommy?

I pull her into my lap and hug her close.  I close my eyes and breath in her soft baby scent, slowly it is being replaced with the aroma of childhood. 

I kiss her soft curls and say Just a dream, baby.