I tried to write a little bit more of the letter after my journal entry last night, but it wasn’t flowing as smoothly as it was during my more wakeful hours. I woke up grumpy, no doubt a result of lack of sleep and intense emotions coming to the surface. I snapped at my kids as we were getting ready for school, and felt extremely guilty because of it. I decided to shelf the letter until next Tuesday. On today’s schedule in The New Normal is taking care of all things domestic, and that’s what I did.
As I was cleaning the kitchen, I saw a stack of post-it notes. On the top one was written “banana bread.” I smiled at the good intentions that made me jot down those words, looking at the brown bananas in the fruit bowl. I grabbed the stack of post-its to put them away, and some writing on the back of the stack caught my eye. I flipped it over. The words were scribbled, as though written quickly. “Zantac Kytril Marinol Continue through PM.”
I have said before that my emotions unravel at unexpected moments. I don’t know what happened there in the kitchen, exactly, but I absolutely lost it. Surrounded by Christmas music and solitude, I let it all go. I looked again at the words on the back of the stack of post-its. I can guess from the combination of support medicines that they were jotted down during a phone call to the clinic just before Benji was admitted for Methotrexate toxicity. So interesting that I should find this now, when I am voluntarily reliving these exact days as I contemplate my words to All Children’s. I flipped the post-its back over again.
Banana bread.
It was like I was given two roads to follow. Zantac Kytril Marinol Continue through PM or Banana bread. My choice was an easy one. At ten in the morning, I baked a beautiful banana bread. It was no paleo recipe, either; fully leaded with white flour and sugar, Kerrygold butter, homemade vanilla extract. The very best. I shed a few more tears as I was making it, but they were joyful. My guilt from the morning’s grumpiness was assuaged with every movement of my whisk. Here, I found my gratitude again. This is the road I am on now, and I am so grateful to be here.
I have read every single entry, usually very soon after publishing. Most are moving, many are powerful. This is by far one of the most powerful yet. And I have been wondering when you were going to finally have a real real real big good cry. I love you from afar. I am happy you cried and I am happy about your banana bread.
It looks so good. Good for the soul too. Love you
The Christmas lights look great. It’s good to see Benjamin getting his hair back. It is big news because that’s another step in healing. I know the bread was a great joy to the whole family. Love and Prays going your way.