Even new beginnings start to become normal occurrences, and things begin to wind their way into the much anticipated summer vacation. New beginnings can’t stay new forever, and as the school year comes to a close we have spent some time reflecting on the twists and turns that caused it to end much differently than it began.
Meghan finished fourth grade with her normal grace and poise – and I am sure good grades. (Report cards are given tomorrow.) Although she finished the year alongside different students, and in a different building then when she began, she finished with the same bright smile and cheery, friendly personality, that quickly endeared her to the young and old in her new environment.
There are some people she misses from her old school. There are some people I miss. There are circumstances neither of us miss at all.
This wasn’t the plan. But really, as I keep learning – we don’t actually get to plan everything.
Learning experiences. That’s what they are.
You never really know what tomorrow will bring.
Make the most of what you have where you are.
Trust your heart and your gut. If it feels broken, it probably is.
Reduce your stress. Eliminate toxins. Its good for the body, mind and soul.
No experience is wasted. No interaction is a loss. People come in and out of our lives, some for a season, some for longer – but always for a reason.
And now there is summer.
Finally, not a summer of overwhelming homework, but not a summer of fun-filled camp days either.
Thursday we visit Sloan Kettering again. Time for the thyroid sonogram. How could six months go so fast? And as the appointment closes in she starts to articulate her fears. They are the same as mine. I should know that she is smart enough to process. To understand that they are looking for thyroid cancer.
On Friday we see the vascular surgeon for a follow up, and then a genetics follow up. Meghan loves to visit the geneticist. She says, quite correctly, that he saved both of our lives. I remind her that she saved mine. She smiles, and hugs me, even as she says quite matter- of -factly, “well when I get breast cancer – at least I know they will catch it early.” Ever wonder what it feels like to be sat on by the ‘elephant in the room?’ Well, as I gasp for breath – speechless, I give her a hug. No empty promises to offer. I can’t. I won’t. She would see right through them anyway.
This is our life. This is how our summer begins, and between the two of us, it doesn’t really let up. There is little time for camp, or beaches. We will sneak in a few play dates. We will get away for a few days in August. She will read a few great books. We will spend a lot of time on the expressway, or the bridge, or in waiting rooms all over Manhattan.
This – this is why we need a life free of toxins.
This is why we eliminate unnecessary stress.
Cowden’s Syndrome carries enough stress of its own.
You see this will be our life – forever. And the sooner we adjust, and find the balance, the sooner we learn to roll with the reality – the better off we will be.
Forever is a long crazy concept. Forever – while trying not to plan too much. Forever.
Forever has this awful way of disappearing sometimes.
I used to think Pop’s vegetable garden would be around forever.
Well, actually I guess it is. I just grow it for him at my house now.
Forever. It’s all about perspective.