I am looking at the last Xeloda tablet on my dressing table. It’s to be taken with supper. I’m also wondering if the bubbly really needs to wait until tomorrow! What’s life without a few cheats on the way?
This week the pathcare nurse, Catherine, came to take my blood for the last time. I won’t miss the procedure but I’ll miss her heavenly presence. I am quietly excited this morning. I don’t know if I’m allowed to be excited yet but I am. Yes, there is still radiation next month. But still. This is the end of this part. And despite my caution, the bubbles are rising up and I cannot deny the way I’m feeling.
As I’ve said before, life doesn’t come with guarantees. But along the way there are triumphs. And this one qualifies. Tonight I have a zoom meet up with my writing tribe. Methinks the champers should be there for the occasion. There’s always tomorrow to recover and the promise of no tablet to swallow down my success.
The light is now clearly visible and the tunnel entrance no longer feels too narrow to pass through. And as one journey moves into the last stretch, the corona one hots up to reach its peak. My heart breaks for all of us. For those on this dual trip with me, it means lock down for longer. I can feel the fear in the air. It hovers just under the clouds. But I cannot take it in. It would be disastrous to do that. So I continue to wrap myself in my own cocoon. There is room enough for small celebrations. And love. Always love.
When these journeys come to an end, I shall emerge. I like to live outside of my comfort zone, where creativity thrives and exhilaration lights the way. For now, I’ll stay snug and grow, so that I can come out into our new normal and play my part. If I don’t invite fear in, happiness can remain intact. As days turn to weeks and months, the seeds are germinating. Perhaps my spring will be later this year, but that doesn’t mean it will be less spectacular.
I feel a party coming on…and you all know how much I love to party. Let’s turn the curve and then we’ll talk. Do you remember asking, “Are we there yet?” Even my gentle father would eventually glare into the rear view mirror and through clenched teeth whisper, “If I stop the car, there’s going to be trouble!” He never ever did but I also never ever took the risk. Now I’m gearing up to take one…maybe even a few.
Archie is curled up in my fuchsia blanket, which means I cannot make the bed just yet. His morning visits are later these days. And not as regular. His own clock has slowed into a more relaxed rhythm. Sadly, my massages are few and far between these days. But I’m taking it as a good sign, especially as they coincide with the decline of love bites. In the back of my mind, this reduction in intensity reminds me of the end of a love affair. Let’s not go there though.
We’ve turned the corner and although winter is still very much with us, this side of the planet is on the right side of the curve. There is still time, (but not plenty,) to plan for that pink bikini beach day. I’ve started knitting the last winter beanie and all that’s left to do is re-learn the skill of pom-pom making, before I pack away the balls of wool. Jasmine buds are already appearing in the garden and Arum lilies are taking over the wilder section. I’d forgotten how many Nasturtium seeds I sprinkled at the end of summer. Thumbelina could have a field day here. In between the storms, winter rays fall on Ella’s desk, inspiring me to remove the clutter and restore it’s glory.
Xena is waiting on the carpet for her biscuit game. ‘Start as you mean to go on,’ echoes in my brain and this is one ritual I am happy to carry on with. My bed will remain unmade this morning, that is until Archie decides to surface. A busy night allows him the luxury of a lazy morning.
And on this tender winter’s morning, I offer you the seeds of happiness…