Today was almost perfect.
Today, aside from morning and evening antibiotics and a few minor mood swings, there was no mention of leukemia. Leukemia took a silent backseat to much more beautiful things.
Today, I witnessed a brand new baby boy, just minutes old. His gorgeous mother was exhaling out her deepest work, and inhaling brand new love.
Today, my husband packed a picnic and took our boys and their friend to a park. I met them there, and watched as the kids rolled down grassy hills and threw frisbees and fed turtles.
Today, we listened to Benji, and went to the beach to watch the sunset. The boys went swimming in the cold February ocean. We built a sandcastle and climbed on the rocks and chased seagulls.
Today was almost perfect. The almost is because I couldn’t stop the thoughts of what comes Monday from creeping in. I refused to let them linger, but they were there. It’s hard to watch a boy so happy and healthy and know you’re walking into weeks of medicine that could take that feeling away from him (as necessary as we know they are). I have long been a believer in the healing power of saltwater. As I watched Benjamin’s body swimming and splashing and laughing, I found myself wishing the saltwater would just wash away everything else.
When I left my dear friend’s house after the birth of her second child this morning, I was reminded of the intense pride I carried after Benjamin was born. I watched my friend’s daughter falling in love with her new brother, and felt awash with gratitude for Banyan. We have one more day to enjoy this rest between medicines. Then we will walk into Monday, grateful for the healing it will provide.