The "You're Alive?" Club

I'm higher than the kite Elton John could only sing about.

I'm also happy as Lainey drags me across the Islands YMCA parking lot.

Completely enthralled by the rapture of 5 guitars simultaneously playing separate yet perfectly complimentary solos as Bill Callahan extolls the virtues of "Sycamores" is streaming in my ears and in my periphery, I spy a fast moving green Chevrolet Impala.

Lainey drags me across the medium to another packed lot.

The Impala speeds up and somewhere through my ear buds I think I hear my name.

Squealing car tires demand my attention and I see a little old lady behind the wheel screaming my name, "MICHEAL!" as the Impala grinds to a halt beside me.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!" Nancy screams.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!" I scream back.

Reaching out of her car window as I lean in we awkwardly hug in celebration as the Impala idles.

"You look good," she says once back inside and behind the wheel.

Rolling my eyes, she laughs.

"Last time I saw you, you looked like warmed over death on a stale bun."

"I know," she laughs. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I just decided I can't control the way I look. You know? I just roll with whatever it is and try to laugh."

"I have to say Nancy, it's working for you. You look great!"

She rolls her eyes and I laugh.

We met earlier this year in the Y's "Live Strong" program for cancer survivors and managed to graduate. 

This is the first time I've seen any of my fellow cancer buddies since.

"A new "Live Strong" class starts today and there's only two signed up. You wanna keep surviving and crash it?"

I laugh.

"Seriously, I'm gonna plan a reunion," she says, holding my hand for the briefest of seconds yet conveying an entire lifetime of understanding and solidarity.

"I'm in!" I happily exclaim.

Our eyes meet and we watch salt water well over a set of blue eyes and another of set of brown, the seconds crashing to a halt, suddenly seeming like a thousand years.

"Take care Micheal," she says kissing my hand.

"You too Nancy."

The Impala peels away spraying gravel so Lainey jerks me quickly to the safety of the walking path, leading me towards home.

On the way, I wish every greeting in life was as full of excitement, enthusiasm, anticipation and surprise as it is when you're shocked to find someone you like is still alive!

I wonder why every greeting isn't like this one; two people shocked to have another moment together when, odds really are against it, yet HERE WE ARE!

What else is there to ask for?

Finding the joys of Cancer

 

I lost 2 whole days last week!

This is what it looks like.

Freezing cold, I crawl under a blanket, look at Sarah sitting across from me, tell her I'm going to rest for a minute and immediately fall asleep.

Two days later I wake up!

"DA's UP!" Che matter-of-factly screams, diving in my lap, ready to finally play with her old man as Sarah breaths sighs of relief.

Later I walk outside to visit with Johnny O who stops by only to see me sweating profusely in 90 degree weather, shivering and barely able to stand.

"You should lay down," he advises saying "Hello" and Goodbye at the same time, waving as he climbs back in his car.

Stumbling in, Che's waiting on the sofa with blankets, playing "TOCA World" on her I-pad and, as I collapse beside her, she covers me without taking her eye off the screen.

"Are you gonna be able to walk her to school with us?" Sarah asks after gliding into the kitchen to fix Che's lunch for Kindergarten.

I rally and we walk together holding hands as everything's normal.

Home again, Sarah makes certain I'm okay before diving into the mountains of work, responsibility, navigating American Heath Care for me and being mother to four daughters.

On good days, I sit on the sofa and take inventory to see what I'm actually capable of doing.

Our Dalmatian, Lainey lays her head in my lap, wags her tail furiously and stares at me with sad, brown cow eyes. 

She wants to take me for a walk.

Desperate to get outside, I want to happily let her drag me along behind her.

I smoke some medicine before harnessing her up and opening the door as Sarah yells between conversations for me to call her if I collapse on the walk.

Somehow Lainey knows how far I'm capable of making it, drags me to the closest bench, where I sit, catch my breath, ache all over, either sweat or freeze and try to focus on the music streaming in my ears.

My phone buzzes, flashing the name "Jeremy'.

Staring at his name unleashes an ocean of emotions and memories and it takes every bit of energy I have to weakly say, "Hey Son."

"Hey Pop," he says and I can hear him sizing up how I sound.

There's a quick burst of words because Sarah and I've been thinking about our daughter-in-law Terenca so I ask before I run out of energy.

He catches me up, I run out of energy and the conversation peters out.

Sensing this, Lainey jerks me off the bench and drags me home.

Sarah has the door to our bedroom/her office closed indicating she's on Zoom calls so, I use the moment to have some more medicine, turning up the music streaming in my ears and falling in the back yard hammock.

Physically I believe I'm doing pretty good for everything my body's been through the past two years, focusing intensely on the things I'm still capable of doing and forgetting about things I can't do anymore.

I'm okay with that. 

It just means that like everyone else I'm getting old.

It's the mental side of living with cancer that's so damn hard!

It's not a flesh and blood struggle I'm fighting but dark powers, corrupt principalities in my head, an emptiness grows for no reason and reminders of the world's wicked ways that seem to constantly overwhelm spiritual promises I've believed in my entire life!

That's as close as I can get to describing the mental side of cancer.

It's pretty brutal! 

So I don't think about it.

Sarah doesn't focus on it too much either.

It's too much.

Instead, to the best of my ability, I only focus on happy or joyous things, either real or imagined, and believe me when I say it helps tremendously to have a 5 year old daughter!

The hard part is willing myself to remain focused on the joys in front of me while all the dark thoughts poke sinister scenarios of meaningless. 

I remind myself "THIS IS IT!"

It's more about living than staying alive.

"Honey you want to go to Sam's Club with me?" Sarah sings across the yard and I climb from the security of my hammock to join my wife for "Date Day."

It could be my last chance!

Who knows!

We have the best time and run into Cheryl in the Wine Aisle, so we share tidings of great joy with warm hugs celebrating our surviving so far!

So far, so good!

Final Wishes

 

Last week I made my final wishes known for when I die.  

It's something everyone should do when it's time and, well dammit!, it's time to make my plans. 

Sarah and I talk it through. 

It's agony. 

We tell the kids. 

It's agony. 

Yesterday, following this theme, and obviously hearing everything Sarah and I say, though we don't hide anything, Che surprises me explaining her final wishes. 

"When I die will you not put me in the ground? I want you to put me in my bed and give me 'Baby.' Don’t tell anybody. But if my friends call, you can tell them that’s where I wanted to be, in my bed."

We're getting ready for our dog Lainey to take us on a walk as Che says this.  

I stop dead in my tracks. 

Che picks up Lainey's leash and looks at me questionably. 

I rush to our bedroom where Sarah's standing typing out our daughter's wishes on her phone to get them right. 

Nothing else is said. 

Today, as Lainey drags me on our walk, my heart's heavy with what Che feels that we'll never completely fathom. 

Once home, I collapse on the couch while Sarah, beautiful and radiant, fresh from her shower, sits in her sheer bath robe across from me. 

"You okay?" she asks. 

"Yeah," I fumble for words, "but you know what bothers me?"

"What?"

Sarah already moves Heaven and Hell on a daily basis preventing things from bothering me leans forward, almost ready to pounce. 

"Well," I begin, looking straight into her in Ocean aqua eyes, "I can't believe Che and I already have our final wishes planned, written and announced and you haven't done squat on 

Checkin' In

"How ya doing?" he asks, peering from underneath an old ball cap with bloodshot eyes. 

"I was afraid ..." and his voice trails off as he wipes sweat from his face with an old pink hand towel.

"Nope," I interrupt, "Still not dead yet!"

And he crumbles a little bit and I think he's going to cry. 

"Good," he says hugging me and he makes his way down the path.  

I have no idea who he is.  

For exercise, most mornings Lainey drags me for a walk along the nature trail behind the YMCA where we pass our friend. 

Over the past couple of years we've moved from stealing glances to nodding to speaking to brief exchanges of "How ya doing?"

One day I told him and it changed our relationship. 

He now cares.  

I have no idea why. 

Shuffling away in silence I swear he's wiping tears with the pink towel, leaving me standing alone with Lainey who's licking herself. 

"I'm doing okay," I say out loud.  

Lainey keeps licking, paying no attention. 

Sarah and I are holding things together though we have absolutely no idea how.  

Her days resemble a pin ball hit by the flipper and randomly knocked from buzzer to bell before disappearing down a black hole she works herself out of while mine revolve around self-medication.  

Lainey jerks me down the path towards home where Sarah's waiting to leave for patient visits.

Her life has been completely taken over caring for me as her pinball day's further behind because my walk's taking so long.

She leaves for work. 

"Let's hang out," I say cuddling up with Che on the sofa.

"It's a big day," I tell her, "the Weed Fairy's coming."

While Che busies herself, I'm distracted by a gnawing sense that time is running out.  

Sarah's making lots of plans for our future and I love her excitement when she's talking about it. 

I live life in 12 hour increments, trying to completely focus on finding joy in the moments with Sarah, Che, Cass and whatever comes my way in real time.

Sarah often says I'm not completely here which I take as her understanding I'm distracted when, in fact, she's convinced I'm losing it. 

I meander into the back yard and focus on picking weeds. 

I'm listening to good music. 

I'm high.  

Che grins at me as she sits on the sofa watching "A for Adley" on YouTube. 

Standing to join her, I clap my hands to shake off the dirt and my wedding ring flies across the yard.  

"Dammit!" I curse because that's never happened before. 

Retrieving my precious ring as quickly as Gollum possibly could, I place it back on my finger before rushing back to Che on the sofa. 

The Best News of his day

 

"Look," Sarah grins, sitting beside me in the Mayo Clinic waiting room with a bell we've never heard rung, "most everyone's wearing flip-flops and tee shirts.  

I am in a funk and don't really hear my wife who's trying her best to pull me out of it. 

I don't want another damn Chemo shot!

They keep me alive by making me sick.  

I'm pretty sick of being sick. 

Sarah's exhausted caregiving without ceasing. 

Our life revolves around a shot every 28 days which is the only firm thing written in stone on Sarah's meticulously maintained calendar.  

Truth is we live life one unanticipated minute at a time.  

We make lots of plans that entertain us but are too busy dealing with the life we have before it disappears to actually carry out most of them though, God knows, Sarah tries.  

Minutes can disappear at any minute and we're keenly aware of it, desperately finding joy where we can, focusing on not waiting for a later that may not come. 

For months now I've poked fun at my monthly pain in the ass, literally, by dressing down for my Chemo shot while everyone else dresses up!

It's all about attitude, isn't that what they say?

Today I can't muster up attitude and Sarah's trying to drag me out of it. 

Eventually she does, as only she can, but it was several days later.  

Now I'm already wondering what to wear next time because I am not going to miss Sarah trying to be funny again!

It's hard pulling off finding or making fun during the best of circumstances and I'm determined to live for the joy surrounding me and celebrate it in real time.

There is no other time.  

"How about this?" I ask, wearing a t-shirt instructing us to choose, "Stage left" with an arrow pointing in one direction over an opposite line offering "Stage right."

She rolls the most beautiful eyes between crow's feet I've watched form and deepen because of me. 

Back at Mayo, no one notices my shirt because we're rushing around cramming 2 days worth of appointments into 1 culminating with the Doctor who tells us how I'm doing.  

"The good news is the cancer's stopped growing. The bad news is a side effect of your shot is you now have diabetes. This cannot be fixed by diet and exercise but we can give you a daily pill to take, which of course may cause other side effects.”

Sarah dissects our Oncologist with questions  like a scalpel slicing skin.

We further learn my white blood cells are exploding in number when they should be stabilizing. He talks about his suspicions and orders more test.

I get another shot. 

They take more blood. 

Driving home, Sarah eats a Dairy Queen concoction as I munch on boiled peanuts though we're having a hard time because we're laughing so hard.

"He sure was proud the cancer stopped growing wasn’t he?" Sarah giggles.  

"Yep," I laugh. "Did his job. Another's Doc's problem for the Diabetes. He'll get back to us on that other matter."

We grow quiet passing Darien. 

"I love our Doctor," she says.  

"Me too," I agree. 

"Did you see how he thanked us at the end.  He said his whole day had been telling people bad news and this is the first good news he's told anyone."

"If we're the highlight of his day, a lot of people had some really shitty ones."

Sarah holds my hand and we drive home in silence.  

My Judgment Day

"I don't know God. How do you think I did?"

God stares at me like I'm an idiot.

 

So does literally everybody I've even come close to knowing in life! Forget about 7 degrees of separation, every single person I've ever seen in life is staring at me too so I'm really on the spot to come up with an answer.

"I don't know," I mutter, staring at my bare feet hanging 10 off a puffy, white cloud in a deep, blue sky with nothing underneath. "I did alright, I guess."

The silence is deafening as I stand in front of the largest crowd I've ever seen, each staring at me along with God herself who apparently has all of the time in the Universe waiting on me to tell everyone how I believe I did.

"He did great!" someone yells from a couple of miles back in the crowd.

"Yes Jimmy," God says, and instantly Jimmy Morrell's standing beside me.  

Tall, skinny as a rail, crazy long brown hair that goes wherever it wants, Jimmy looks just like he did when we were in Groves High School. It's been near 20 years since he died so I'm a bit taken back that he's here!

"Go ahead," God smiles beatifically and the deep blue sky turns lighter and, I don't know, more airy if that makes any sense.

"Mike lives life hard and fast," he begins and my stomach is churning crazily as I recall the last time we saw each other over lunch at Johnny Harris' Restaurant decades earlier. 

I was cocky as Hell in those days and can't remember the details of our conversation, only that I was very happy we'd had met afterwards.

"There weren't many stones Mike didn't look under in his life, even those he should have left alone."

"Shit!" I mutter.

"What?" Jimmy asks.

"Never mind," God says. "Anything else Jimmy?"

"Yeah," Jimmy now mumbles, looking at his own bare feet, and wistfully adds, "I wish I'd turned over more rocks."

God smiles and hugs Jimmy, "What are you talking about?" she laughs. "You were great! The way you took care of your Mom! Gave your own life away for her."

I don't know what to do so, I join God and hug Jimmy too.

"Let's proceed," God announces and I see Jimmy waving at me from a couple of miles back in the crowd, standing beside Wayne Sears, and I'm wondering where's my Dad?

"It's rare someone does that," God informs me. "You should count yourself as blessed."

"What are you talking about?" I exclaim. "I've had the most blessed life ... so far!! You crazy telling me that! I know what a great life I had!"

God bursts out laughing and several million in the crowd join her. If you've ever been laughed at publically you know it's tough. Thankfully I've had lots of experience so it doesn't bother me too bad though it still stings.

"What about the bad things?" God asks, leaning back on her throne, grinning.

"Yeah, well, I don't know God," I stammer. "Shit happens!"

Laughter erupts again and God is doubled over and the noise is the most joyful sounds I've ever heard.

Wiping tears from her eyes, still grinning God stares again, continuing. "What about the bad things you did?"

"Yeah," I mutter and confess, "I think about that a lot. I used to never think about it but, lately, it's like everything I ever did that wasn't my best haunts me. It's not that I regret them but I know I could have done better. I should have done better! I don't think there's anything you can do to punish me more than I've already punished myself."

God burst out laughing again so, of course, the whole damn multitude joins in and I'm embarrassed.

"Well then," God grins again, dragging a sleeve from the whitest robe I've ever seen across her nose, " are you finished then?"

"Finished what?"

"Living."

"Hell no," I exclaim. "Sarah's probably wondering where I am. I gotta get home before Che wakes up."

"Okay then," God thunders, "you have a little more time. Don't screw it up. If you don't, then when you come back in a little while you can by-pass 'Judgment' and go to the much shorter, 'Preferred Enrollee' line" and claps her hand so loudly I close my eyes.

Opening them, I see the clock on the stove flashes 4:55 am in the darkness. A cold cup of coffee rests on the table beside me. Carole King sings she's "been to Canaan and won't rest until she goes back again" in my earbuds. Lainey sleeps under my bare, dangling feet at the dining room table. Sarah, Che and Cass are sleeping in their bedrooms.

I sit prayer like in the afterglow of, I don't know, a light and airy satisfaction that there's nothing to be angry or judgmental over. 

It's peaceful for a several long, slow, delightful minutes until Lainey farts, jerking me out of this reverie and I use the Lord's name in vain.

Carole stops singing and, in the silence, I hear Che call, "Da!"

An un-romanticized Father's Day

 

"My Dad loved this song, and after a very tumultuous upbringing, in fact we got along best after I moved out, we grew to sing together and love one another dearly!"

I sing "Will the Circle be unbroken?" leading the Bar Church Band and the whole congregation sings along smiling.

"My Dad and I never really saw eye to eye,"  he explains before launching into the next song, "but I love him anyway and this is for him.

The applause is louder than for "Will the Circle be unbroken?" and the song he's singing has nothing to do with Father's Day. 

"Well, my old man was just a mean SON-OF-A-BITCH!" 

The other singer announces and the congregation erupts, cheering, standing and clapping. I mean the Bar really goes nuts! People are laughing, hitting one another on the back and worship breaks into a deeper realm, where I've never been before.

That was a powerful learning moment!

Father's Day isn't everything it's cracked up to be for a lot of folks.

"MOM!" Che screams, piercing the darkness, and I spill coffee rushing from the kitchen where I've been up for a while.

Hair askew from her pillow, our little girl clutches "Baby" and tells me she's scared. Throwing her arms tightly around my neck, I almost collapse with her weight, actually crashing into the wall twice but somehow manage to get her to the sofa, give her juice and she immediately falls back asleep. 

Pausing, I wonder if we woke Sarah or Cassidy but the house remains quiet as I watch our sleeping gypsy, wild love child.

We've so romanticized Father's Day.

It's just a major income producer for Hallmark anyway isn't it?

"Hey Da," Che excitedly screams from Michelle and Derick's swimming pool, "swim with me."

"Aw baby," my heart breaks as I answer, "Daddy can't right now."

"I got it!" Sarah says, effortlessly dropping the bags she's carried, removing her coverup and jumping in the pool where I watch Mother and daughter have the times of their lives.

That's an unromanticized view of Fatherhood!

So I'd like to stay unromantic for a moment and simply stick with the facts on this Father's Day.

Sarah does most of the heavy lifting of Dad-stuff at our house and I receive way more credit than I'm ever due.

That's just the honest truth!

So I want to wish Sarah the BEST FATHER'S DAY EVER!

Thank you Babes!

I couldn't do any of this without you!

Neither could Che.

Or Cassidy, Laurel and Maddie.

Or me.

Seizing Moments

 

I've had an amazing week!

My whole world begins and ends with Sarah so, of course, it all starts with her. 

"I don't feel like going out," I explain after she suggest meeting Derick and Michelle for drinks and to listen to world famous Joe Jarka.

Working the magic that only she can I find myself walking out the door, heading to Molly McGuire's.

The most delightful evening unfolds as we laugh as only friends can. Che delights in requesting songs and Joe masterfully delivers as the crowd jump up and move their feet.

And Sarah and I dance. 

Che rushes to the floor needing to be part and throws her tiny arms around our legs, which is precisely how we should be dancing. 

A smiling Michelle follows us too and snaps a picture.

I get to dance again with my beautiful wife, even if only a minute!

I'd all but given up hope of it ever happening again yet here I am!

The next day, I feel good enough to give in and finally grant Che's wish of a "Daddy/Daughter" date. It's been months since she and I have been able to go much anywhere by ourselves but at the moment I'm capable so we seize it too!

At Walmart, Che pushes the cart and we laughingly shop. 

Mark Lebos breezes by, waves, and I'm possessed to speak, joke and completely overdo personal interaction with another human being because I really am out of practice.

At check-out, the line is long, Che and I are laughing, oblivious to others while Beverly keeps running my card the machine keeps rejecting.

"Micheal," I hear from a lady with her own full cart, "I read all of your stuff! I love it! I'm going to Africa! I'm so excited! What's the problem? Here, let me do that!" and she slides her card, still hot from her own purchases through the machine continuing to talk, "Have you been to Africa yet?"

And I am amazed that she added the word "yet" as though Sarah and I simply haven't gotten around to it but should be soon.

Locking her arm in mine, she walks Che and I out discussing Africa when I suddenly stop and thank her for "paying it forward."

"Well, you didn't want to have to come back. Gas is too expensive for that!" she laughs, waving goodbye and taking off for the other side of the world.

Afraid I'll forget to tell Sarah, I ask Che to remind me when Mark Lebos air surfs by, smiling, waving, exclaiming it's good to see me and I'm touched by the miracles of these moments.

Later, at home, as Che plays outside with a friend, Sarah and I sit on the sofa scrolling our phones when I see on Facebook that Robin Wakefield has painted "Fran's 1000 shades of green."

Sarah and I introduced Robin to our back yard on Tybee Island years ago after I'd named it after a long deceased college friend who taught me "green" decades earlier. When we moved off island a few years back we left Fran there but now Robin's brought her back again as a celebration of good times that once were! What a gift!

If this weren't all enough, our new granddaughter was born.

"Join us at the Gym?" Sarah later ask the next day as she and Cassidy prepare to work out.

"Okay," I surprise myself answering, "but I need to take some medicine first."

Sarah rolls her eyes.

There's some nice pictures from our time at the Islands YMCA Gym.

We had a really good time, laughed a lot, saw our friend Leah who waved at us while leading aerobics causing the 20 or so in the class to wave too!

So much activity was bound to catch up and, sure enough, my energy crashes and I spend the next day sleeping so I can be up all night focusing on "other issues."

We're used to it though as it's our new normal.

I'm certainly unaccustomed to so much happening in such a short period of time.

The thing about living with Cancer, for me anyway, is keeping my pocket full of dreams, a heart full of hope and a, often begrudging, openness to finding joy in whatever comes next.

There are times though, high holy days really, when the joy comes to you.

It's just a matter of seizing it when it does. 

-- 

Micheal Elliott

Googling My Health

 

One of the main problems using Google to manage your health care, especially when it's precarious already, is conflicting answers to critical questions.  

For example, if you Google "getting high before working out" the top results conclude physicians urge extreme caution. 

On the other hand, Google "getting high before sex" and the top responses conclude it significantly enhances sexual experiences. 

See what I mean?

Sarah asked me to join her and Cass to work out at the YMCA, which led to my inquiries of the World Wide Web because not-getting-high-first was not an option. 

To show her solidarity to my commitment to better health, and health care in America for that matter, we wear complimentary shirts because it's important to take stands in this life!

And right now anyway, we're taking this one!

Dog Nurse

 

Most every day, Lainey takes me for a drag. I hold the leash and she pulls me wherever she wants me to go. 

Sarah is proud of me because I'm exercising when I'm actually holding on for dear life! 

It's nice to get outside though and see the sights, mostly surrounding our dog's butt, but I love Lainey dragging me down the street, through the woods to the lagoons teeming with turtles.  

Deep blue skies, cotton Candy clouds, sub-Tropical foliage brightly punctuate the forest of Evergreens and I'm overwhelmed by the LIFE exploding everywhere around me. 

Over the past 2 years since I've been sick, I've learned how Lainey takes care of me, just like everyone else in our house. 

On the days I can barely put one step in front of the other, she drags me to the football practice field bleachers not very far away so I can rest. 

When I'm ready she drags me to the baseball diamond on the other side of the school where there are more bleachers.

After gaining my wind, she drags me to soccer fields where there are more bleachers. If I'm lost in thought, or extremely high, and keep walking Lainey jerks backwards knowing I'll never make it without resting first.  

Conversely, if I sit to long, she jerks me up and drags me to the next designated rest area.

The dog has obviously been eavesdropping when Sarah's talking online Nursing classes and gives me the utmost care when she's in charge. 

Unless there's a squirrel. 

All bets are off if a squirrel darts across our path as Lainey gives chase, mindlessly dragging me along bumping trees, through underbrush and ditches. 

She drug me under a car once but seemingly realized what she'd done and immediately stopped to jump up on my chest and lick my face. 

Afterwards she drug me home.  

Once there she switches all of her love, adoration, locality and allegiance to Sarah and Che which is fine because it takes me an hour to recover our walks. 

 But I love this dog. 

She loves me too. 

After Sarah and Che. 

Just higher than squirrels. 

Catching Holy as it happens

Laying in the dark, staring at the soft, red numbers reading 4:02, I wonder if I should "try" to fall asleep again but my stomach's gurgling and I should be up anyway before I wake Sarah. 

A tiny silhouette carrying a blanket and a baby doll enters the room. 

"Get in with us," her Mom mumbles but I jump up, whisking Che out of the room. 

Unintelligible instructions follow us out as Sarah falls back asleep. 

Our daughter settles on the sofa telling me of scary dreams she can't recall. 

She tells me to wake her up "when it's time", whatever that means.  

"I miss Ethan," she says, laying her head in my lap. "When's he coming back?"

"Soon," I answer, rubbing her hair, having no idea when she'll she her nephew again. 

"I lub you Da," she grins, turning her attention to YouTube. 

Sometime, if you're lucky, you recognize holiness as it's happening. You hide such moments in your heart just like Mary did after the Magi inexplicably arrive bearing gifts because, one day, you're going to need them again. 

So my heart is full of holiness right now. 

It's a good thing I never wear shoes because I don't have to take them off because "this is Holy ground" and I whisper out loud, "Thank you Lord."

Che grins at me with pure love light in her eyes. 

"Let's take a morning selfie," I say, and we do.

Then we snuggle and laugh as we "kick the darkness till it bleeds light."

Home Health and me

Che and Ethan rush to check on me. 

Our daughter is dressed as a doctor carrying a plastic bag full of bandaids. Che introduces herself as the Doctor and her nephew as her Nurse. 

"How do you feel?" he asked. 

Freezing under an electric blanket on Memorial Day is not what we had planned but, here I am, chilled, sweating and shivering.

"Tired," I smile because it's impossible to not acknowledge joy when it slaps you in the face, regardless of how you feel.

Ethan writes this down while Che unwraps bandaids. 

Our grandson crawls beside me and asks if I'm tired. 

"Yep."

He writes it down as Che sticks a bandaid on my arm.

"Are you cold?" he asks, counting the number of blankets Sarah's thrown on top of me. 

Ethan has mastered a firm grasp of the obvious and I can't be prouder.  

When the examinations over, I'm covered in bandaids but, miraculously, feel better somehow.

The doorbell rings.

Aiden lives two doors down and can't get enough of Che and Ethan. 

He's all but moved in though Sarah and I keep throwing him out. 

They rush off to play in the backyard. 

Sarah sings softly, cooking dinner in the kitchen while I shiver under the blanket. 

Life is good!

Even when you feel bad. 

Writing LITE

Maddie, fresh from graduating the University of Georgia, Cum Lauda, in 3 years time, told me to "lighten up" when I write.

"Fine," I tell her. "You go ahead and send me the next 3 subjects and I will write about them."

Unless Maddie is ordering something off the menu and can't make a decision so she sends Sarah and I a text asking our thoughts, I'm unaccustomed to "writing on demand," but she's so smart and all, so I had to "man up" and challenge someone far smarter than I ever was.

So before Mad tells me what to write about, I'm beating her to the punch.

She's driving her fiancée Henry through Atlanta so she's busy being accosted by people pretending to be homeless violently panhandling as I write. 

"Da, are boys stronger than girls?"

"No," I snap at Che, who's playing with Aiden, the boy 2 doors down,"who told you that?"

"The boys at school," she coos, sucking on a blue Paw Patrol ice cream.

"Boys are idiots Che," I sigh, hugging her tightly.

The doorbell rings.

Dropping me like an atomic bomb, she opens the door and leaves to play with the boy.

So, let's see, oh yeah, back to writing "Lite" for Maddie!

I don't know.

Writing.

It's hard to know what ends up being written once I get started. 

I get into a place. 

It's a big part of who I am.

I love words.

"In the beginning was the word," crazy ass Apostle John, the self-proclaimed greatest of them all, starts his story, exiled by the Church, Government and every friend he ever had 

But I love stories more!

And I think Jesus did too.

He didn't write 'em but he told a slew so, I love Jesus too!

Fiction's the best stories because you write the truth with made up names, places and events.

Everything's deadly "real" except the details.

But the love of my life is a " facts only" kind-a-girl where I'm a "never-let-the-truth-stand-in-the-way-of-a-go0d-story"guy.

I learned everything I know about fiction at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, but I digress. 

Anyway, here's my story and I'm sticking to it. And it's pure fact because I know what my wife likes and how she likes it. 

I have a Chemo shot next week and I'm already wondering what to wear.

The End. 

-- 

Micheal Elliott

Chasing Life!

She has the ability to eloquently respond to a question without ever answering it.

By the time you figure out that she never told you want you wanted to know the conversations already moved past.

Or her friends, Laurel rarely visits home alone, takes the dialogue somewhere else and it's hours later before you realize you haven't leaned anything about the child's life.

Or she's already left, Laurel very rarely stays anywhere for too long, especially home, before we have a chance to ask her anything. 

Once I finally figured out Laurel's diversionary approach to communication, I began interrupting her responses with immediate questions redirecting her back to the question asked and not what she's talking about.  

Laurel's dancing eyes catch mine for a second, she grins and keeps talking.

Everyone hangs on her every word.  

I laugh.

She laughs but keeps talking about everything expect what you really want to know.

"Of all the kids, I'm the one actually doing it,"
she delightfully shares in the kitchen just before she leaves.

And she is.

"See the world now! Don't wait until later to do things. When High School's over, take a year or so, see things, figure out what you want to do and learn.

Go to College later if you want.

And I'll be dammed if this Wonder of an old-enough-to-be-killed-for-your-country but can't-drink-until-you're-21, young woman with the guts to want-it-all-now hasn't done it!

And she has a plan!

If it goes anywhere near as perfectly as her launch then in a couple of years she'll be living and working outside of the US and retiring before she's 30!

She's her Mom's daughter with a Gypsy heart, bright blue sparkling eyes that see further than most, thirsts to experience E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. and determination that always finds a way.

Whew Laurel!

I'm too excited to miss you, relishing in each detail of your new life's shared, newest friends, job, house and horses.

Oh yeah! 

And we're so damn proud!

Love and Frogs

 

"So I told him I don't eat frogs,"  Che concludes.

After a long pause, during which she drinks juice in the exact same fashion as her Mother, I ask, "Do you think it's over?"

"I think we will still play together," she sighs, "but it won't be the same."