“Seven dogs?” the Muse of Many Questions queried. “I only count six.”
Urania cleared her throat. “Think outside the mixed media pad? Can you see beyond the obvious?”
“Henny’s paw?” Cal inquired. “Okay… seven. Got it.”
“What did we write about before cancer?” asked Thalia.
Three blank-faced muses, and one pondering Typist, sat in silence.
“We can beat ourselves up for having short memories, or… We can celebrate our ability to Be Here Now,” said Urania.
“Be,” said Typist.
“Here,” said Cal.
“Now,” said Thalia.
“Amen.” Nia had the last word.
Uh-uh… Typist gets the last word. 😂
I am feeling remarkably well. Every time I say that out loud (or in print) I’m afraid I might be calling in the locusts. Who does she think she is… a body accepting chemotherapy without too much fuss. And then I remember that in part we shape our experiences by the thoughts we allow to hang out with us.
This morning my neighbor Lisa texted to see if Henny and I could join her for a walk. We could, and did. She walked Henrietta who displayed exemplary behavior. Mhmmm!
Then I met Donna for lunch.
I wish you all could meet Donna.
She wants to take me bowling or ice skating.
#cancergift = relationships amplified
Your comment that you are learning to accept help reminds me of one of my favorite sayings - “life is like a sailboat, some days the water is calm and it’s smooth sailing ahead. On other days, you need to rely on your crew”. Learning to accept help allows others to connect with you and I’ve learned that when we show our vulnerability, it invites those around us to let themselves be vulnerable too. Sending hugs.
T-shirt: "I’m awake. Please respect my privacy during this difficult time." 😁
Henny's behavior: any relation to parents dropping off the kids with the grandparents/aunt&uncle, coming back hours later, apologizing for sticking them with the kids, being told "Oh heavens, they were little angels, we had a wonderful time"... and fingerprinting the kids when they get home to make sure nobody got switched? 🤨