Gratitude Confetti

As I was driving home today, before dusk so the sky was still that beautiful brilliant fall blue, I noticed the trees lining the street just exploding.  Pop, pop… Pop pop pop!  Deep reds and fiery yellows and all of a sudden it was like an autumn rainbow right before my eyes.  I drove by a high school and watched as the kids ran back and forth chasing after the soccer ball, smiling to myself.  I always played soccer in the fall (except senior year when I convinced my school to let me take drama instead– we didn’t have gym class so we had to play sports), and I always hated it.  But somehow, seeing kids today playing with their jerseys and their shin guards and the bunch of sliced up oranges on the side of the field and the crumpling of the leaves and the sweet air that whispered through my car window… It just felt so… Comfortable.  Soothing.  Nostalgic.

I wondered, as I always do when I see kids playing outside, if I would have been a soccer Mom.  Strike that.  Would I have been a good soccer Mom?  We’ll never know, but if I had to put my money on it, given how much love I know my heart can hold, I would say: Yes.

But every day that I do not have children, I heal.  I do not want that love to go to waste so I let it bubble up when I’m with SHL and sometimes I try to see myself through his eyes.  In the end I just want him to know how much I love him.  I think I show him in the homemade peanut butter cup ice cream that he loves when I make, and by folding his laundry, which he hates to do.  I love to do things for him, and he doesn’t ask for a lot.

And I let my love pour out of my limbs and my heart and every inch of my soul when I’m with the rest of my family and friends; I hope you can feel it.  I think about you all every day, and every single time I do I shake my head in wonderment; how did I get so lucky?  My friends are so brilliant, kind, thoughtful, interesting, shining lights.  YOU are all so full of love.  Sometimes it feels like my own love can’t even compare, and the truth of it is that I’m afraid my heart will explode with gratitude. (I imagine little bits of gratitude floating through the air like confetti).

And so on those days, the ones where I wonder what my life truly does hold and how long I’ll be here to hold it, I come back to my memories of you.  Of our pasts, our laughs, our secrets, our jokes, our stolen moments that only you and I know about.  And then I think about the future.

We are “supposed” to be in the present moment, but sometimes I’ll sneak a glance into the future.  And instead of seeing cancer and treatments and scans and doctors and blood and needles and fear, I like to picture us– you and me– on a bench somewhere, in the sun.  Drinking coffee.  Laughing.  Planning.  Thrilled with the idea that we have time– plenty of time– to travel and experience and share and live.  To live without regret.  It’s because of you, my team, that I feel hopeful, that I can forsee (g-d willing) a long life filled with confetti.

It’s what keeps me going, keeps me fighting and so for that, I just want to say:

Thank you.





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