July 18, 2009
I went by my friend’s house today– the one who was just diagnosed with breast cancer. I wanted to put something in her mailbox. When I opened the mailbox it was full of mail already. She hadn’t taken in yesterday’s mail yet.
Of course she hadn’t. Why should she worry about mail when they are worrying about cancer and what it means for their family?
I left the bag in her mailbox on top of the day-old mail and went away, remembering:
Remembering that time in my life two years ago when I was diagnosed with cancer.
I managed to get the kids where they needed to go (I have no idea where that was).
I did the things I needed to do (I have no memory of what they were).
I went the places I needed to go (I can’t remember where they were).
There is no room for anything else in these days, these days in the beginning.
There is no room for anything else except to hear the words again and again,
as if you need to convince yourself that they are true: “You have cancer.”
There is no room to
In these days there is no room for anything but cancer.
But these days will pass.
You don’t believe it.
Can’t believe it.
But it’s true:
these days will pass.
Your life will change.
You can make room for other things,
And once again,
there will be room in your mailbox.
You will remember to get the mail because you won’t be thinking about cancer.
You’ll be thinking about the things you should be thinking about,
that you deserve to be thinking about.