Dark in the Sun

Nicholai takes a philosophical approach, me ... not so much.

It was a dark day today, and I'm not talking about the weather. After an uneventful, if long, drive from Montana to Oregon yesterday (during which Nicholai spent several hours sitting on the front passenger seat with his head on my shoulder), I was met with barking dogs, an acting out child, and a tired partner. In other words, I was met head-on with the continual juggling-act-in-the-circus that is my life with traumatized children, three active dogs, chickens, garden, and work.

This morning as I struggled to integrate the emotion of the past two weeks into a hectic Sunday schedule that wouldn't even allow for a walk in nature with the dogs, a friend called with the news that her spouse is in the hospital with a suspicious ovarian mass – goddamn cancer everywhere. As I mostly listened and talked a bit, I felt the door to my emotional self firmly closing, a sense of steel at my center, so much sadness and a deep sense of vulnerability. Are we the canaries in the mine?

Nicholai has taught me so much about living in the moment, about the precious sweetness of morning rain, footsteps sinking into a sandy beach, scents on the wind, deep breath, and a quickened heart rate. Today, I struggle to find that peace. My human frontal cortex strives to interpret, find meaning, and make sense of radical increases in cancer. One woman in eight in the U. S. will have breast cancer, in my immediate circle, we are two in eight. I'm pissed, sad, lonely, and yes – afraid. Will I lose my sister to cancer, my good friend, my dear sweet Nickel-Pickle, myself??

I'm sure hope and brightness will find me again, it always has so far, no matter what. It's just that the ante on "no matter what" keeps going up. I hope I can keep up with it.