What greater joy can there be, than feeling the contentment of slow, sleepy days, a pace that can't get boring, a moment each day that makes you laugh aloud and some softer reflection that allows for a small tear of life to quietly appear in the wind that is blowing in your face.
And coming home, knowing that you know how to be alive and how to live and that you're so blessed to be able to do it.
For me knowing that 5 years ago I couldn't see this future, had no concept of anything but a life of discomfort, unpleasantness and pain.
I've been given a chance to be the mum I am. For me and my daughter this time is so precious. We have played like children, talked like adults, laughed like teenagers and argued like a mother and daughter should.
I've had space to assess what I need to do about my body, not just the cancer but the rest too, the wobbly bits, the exterior that is starting to show the 4 decades it's traveled. It's tanned and strong, slightly achey but not hurting me, not causing me to avoid my life.
I know my body won't let me feel like this forever, so this morning, while I pottered about, cutting red onion, getting it under my nails, reading a chapter or two of my book, putting on a load of washing and planting out the air potatoes that have gone to seed, like them, I don't know if the protection around them will last, if they will grow into more than they were, but the hope is there and the chance has been given.
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