I didn’t meet my husband until I was 33, after breakup after breakup.
Then I barely had a wedding, and I didn’t have a honeymoon, because my mom got cancer.
I got married quickly between her surgery and chemo. I got pregnant during her radiation. We spent the year not knowing where my husband would live the next year, due to his residency match. I popped a baby out when my mom was done with the next chemo, and spent eleven weeks recovering from having my nether half all torn up before my dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.
It has been two years of storms, with no end in sight. Perhaps the storms will never pass. Maybe this is just how life is. Maybe this is that “new normal” everyone keeps telling me about, with my mom scanning and my dad dying.
Maybe I should somehow enjoy the baby, in spite of it all.
I don’t normally go in for hackneyed inspirational quotes, but maybe
I don’t know what that means in practice, though. This Memorial Day long weekend, I see everybody traveling and having fun.
I so want to go on vacation somewhere. I’ve wanted to go for years.
I would like to see the sun again.