Everything comes to an end one way or another, and begins again
Thursday, June 10, 2021
It’s been a year plus, huh?
Oh, my spouse and I drove 1500+ miles to get a new kitten, meet Neroli. He’s growing fast and keeps Valentino from beating up on the elder cats by being a good wrestling partner. We also visited old friends and got out of the house for a weekend.
A couple of days ago, my chemo port was removed, signaling the battle is over, time to put the weapons down and celebrate. I will still be going to multiple cancer doctor appointments for the next 5 years, but being monitored is hella better than poked, sliced, prodded, injected, disinfected, burned, gamma rayed like the Hulk, but not with the same results.
I can focus back on my chronic stuff with EDS, getting back on physical therapy horse. Slowly my chemo brain begins to reassemble scattered cells into a three dimensional frontal cortex, and I regain enough cognition for poetry. Having a writing group with occasional prompts helps, too, to have some parts to build with. I wrote the following poem in about five minutes during writing group last Sunday.
Prompts randomly chosen by group members were:
Place: St Thomas, VI
Food: chocolate
Emotion: stormy
Animal: squirrel
Scent: Magnolias
I made minor edits before posting here.
~~~
Sailing from St. Thomas
Sailing from St. Thomas Island,
Chocolate squirreled in my pocket,
the sea blue and clear.
Another passenger on this adventure cruise wears magnolia perfume,
reminds me of my grandmother’s yard in Georgia.
Summers we visited, the heat, and squirrels stealing pecans to bury.
The gentle creek running down back in green shade.
On the horizon, or is it in me,
Stormy colors start churning.
Stingrays hover in the wake.
The sounds of sails and rutter cutting through the water,
they hope for a snack tossed off the side.
We swim, not swimming,
the boat takes us through
memories and ones made now
reflect the old, the magnolias, the pecans,
grandmother’s laundry flapping
on the line like the sail.
I take a bite of chocolate to send them back to the depths.
6.10.2021
Thank you for visiting,
Cath