Surviving and thriving.
That’s us, to the right. Two years ago today.
Moments after sharing the bad news with Luba.
So early in a surreal journey.
Behind that smile, a big part of me thought life was over. All of me hoped it was just beginning.
We headed to Quebec City that week. As planned. I tossed and turned in the hotel bed, hoping I’d somehow fall asleep before Lucy, Bayla and Mark finished watching “The Corpse Bride”, “Beetlejuice”, “Edward Scissorhands” and “The Nightmare Before Christmas”.
I was awoken, one of those nights, by a ringing thought: This was the beginning of “The Spicy Me”.
Before this ordeal, my aim was to get through life. To make it to some far off end without losing any of the fabulousness I’d stumbled into. New territories and aspirations were reserved for Luba. As a matter of course.
Two years ago today, I opened my eyes.
I became alert. Aware. Present.
I started examining. And choosing. And imagining more.
The two years since then have brought trauma and mourning, recovery and joy. I’ve made friends. I’ve taken chances. I’ve explored new territories. I’ve become the Spicy Me.
I’d never choose cancer. I never want it again. For any one.
And I’m supremely grateful for the efflorescing goodness I’ve been treated to since that mind-boggling beginning. Two years ago today.
I’m aspiring to many, many more good years.
By the way.