Tuesday, December 22, 2009

a gift for you

As you have probably noticed, I've lost a good deal of momentum with regard to this blog over the past few months. I suspect that it is at least partly because I would love to leave the whole cancer ordeal behind me forever. I've also been ridiculously busy over the last month or so. I'm taking the time now to really enjoy the last few days of this year, reveling in the warmth and joy of the season. That sounds terribly corny, I know, but the solstice and Christmas and the end of the year have always been magical to me, and this year is no exception. When the festivities end, and January opens with its icy breath, I intend to pick up the pieces of experience that are scattered around me, and make something new from them. That will include this blog, and my work, and... well, I expect to find myself making some pretty major decisions in every area of my life.

In the meantime, I want to thank you all for bearing with me, for returning here to check on me even when I'm silent for weeks at a time. And this time of year always makes me want to give things to the people I love, and I'd like to give one of you something. Leave a comment on this post anytime before midnight on January 6, and I'll enter your name in a drawing to win an instock pendant of your choice from my Etsy shop. At the moment, the pickings look a little sparse, but trust me, there are more, and sometime before the end of the year I will list them all.

I hope that the season finds you feeling peaceful and very, very happy.

Friday, December 4, 2009

just a thought

Today would have been my friend Kristen's 49th birthday. We would have had a tree trimming party, drinking champagne and eating brownies, because she didn't care much for cake. She would have told us how plans were coming along for her 50th celebration in Italy. She loved to plan parties, trips, and menus, and Italy involved all these. She had started planning it in her early 40s.

Instead I am sitting here contemplating how much cancer has taken from me over the past few years: my best friend; my body as I knew it; a measure of naivete or perhaps blissful ignorance. The faint whisper of mortality has grown to a bit of a cacophony since Kristen was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at the end of 2005.

I hope that the robbery is over. I'd add "forever," but I know that is too much to hope for, so I'll put in my request to the benevolent spirits for a good, long hiatus and hope that someone finds a cure in the meantime.

Perhaps you could take a minute today to think about a friend that you've had for a while. A long while. The kind who knew you when you were young and foolish and did dumb things, and who loves you anyway. A friend who knows things about you that you would rather forget, and is kind enough not to mention them too often. A friend who keeps your secrets and tells you hers, a friend who by the simple fact of her existence makes the world a steadier, easier place for you to reside. Maybe you could call or write her (or him) if you can, and tell her how much she means to you. Life is so short and sometimes terrible things happen without warning. I think it's a good idea to counter them with unexpected wonderful things.