The gift of the moment is not lost in my thoughts.
Just the right amount of motion to rock back, and equal energy to propel forward. There is a comfort to this chair that was once my grandmothers, then my mothers, and now mine. It is the soothing chair that I rocked in when I waited excitedly for the birth of our daughters, where I first nursed them and snuggled with them, where I later read stories to them. It is in the arms of this chair that I found comfort through chemo. I've cried, laughed and prayed in this one special chair. It is the place where I come to sit, to rock away troubles and chase away fears.
On this cloudy morning it is where I have come to contemplate. It is a peaceful morning with silver skies and mist in the air. Birds are tweeting and squirrels are scurrying. Time is standing still on Canton mountain and with each rock of the chair I am thankful for the respite from stage 4 colon cancer. The gift of the moment is not lost in my thoughts. I'm blissfully aware of the simplicity surrounding me. I also know that while time seems to be stopped; it is at the same time sifting all too quickly through my fingers.
The anticipation of upcoming scans permeates my thoughts. In just a few short weeks will I feel this calm? Will my wonderful reprieve from chemo continue? Will the stability of tumors remain solid? Do I dare dream of the call that says stay the course? Or do I prepare myself for the next battle in my terminal cancer war?
I listen for Ronnie to return. As he walks up the steps, I push the worry away and realize that those are questions for which there is no answer. I have this moment to claim and a day ahead with the love of my life and the simple things that surround us. There is no time for negativity. The chair moves back and then forward again. I'm rockin'.....rockin' with hope.