Che twirls a locket with our pictures in it around her neck.
Once when we couldn’t take her to school because I had to be at the Mayo Clinic, Sarah used the locket so she feels close to us whenever she needs.
“This way,” Sarah explained, “whenever you need Mom and Dad, we’re already hugging your neck when you open it up.”
She’s worn it to school ever since.
This is her, wearing the locket, masked-up-for-school, sitting beside me on the sofa watching a movie called “Leap.”
Che is a dancer, takes ballet at Gretchen Green Dance Studios and loves to cut a rug, or a sofa in her case, as our daughter flies through the air showing off her moves.
Sarah’s getting ready for the day still so Che and I hang out watching the movie.
The locket is broken, either because she opens and closes it a thousand times a day or it flies off her neck when she dances, slamming on the floor.
Which is often.
My pictures already fallen and been replaced once.
Like Sarah herself, her picture has remained a constant, unyielding source of beauty, comfort and assurance.
My replacement photo is too big so all Che sees are my eyes, nose, and smile peering out like a clown trying to squeeze his face into a jar.
“You look silly,” she explains when she sees me looking at it just now writing this.
“I do,” and we cuddle more.
I snap the picture and she resumes watching the movie.
Staring out the window, I see colors dance in the sky just above the tress, as choirs of light sing in jubilation to the rising of the sun as the darkness retreats.
My life is most surreal, watching it take place, sitting on a bench, wanting to keep up and play but unable and, increasingly, unsure of myself.
Che shifts her head, laying it on my shoulder and sighs loudly.
I’m not alone on the bench.
“Morning,” Sarah sings floating into the kitchen defeating the choirs of dancing colors and the majestic rising sun for my attention.
The past few weeks were especially tough as we wrestle with the darkness cancer brings to families and we needed a break.
Just in time, God threw us a lifeline and we had the nicest weekend. It was just the 3 of us enjoying life and each other. And Laurel stopped by for a couple of seconds too!
To top it off, some special friends gifted Thanksgiving dinner next week so Sarah wouldn’t have to worry about it!
We have lots to be thankful for and I’m especially excited this year.
But now it’s back to school, work and the Mayo Clinic for more Chemo.
Che kisses her locket.
I kiss Che.
Standing over the sofa, Sarah kisses both of us as light floods the living room of our home.
