Today I am writing from the lobby of a hospital. My cousin is having radiation today, and she has been going five days a week for a bit now. Her family and other loved ones have taken turns going with her. You might think this sounds like a chore, but it's actually a delight.
I never realised, for instance, how lovely the Adams Shore in Quincy is. And since we ride on a special shuttle bus, I got to look at the wonderful old brownstones and craftsman houses as we rumbled through Jamaica Plain. Usually I have to pay attention and dodge traffic.
And Anna is a delight. She's funny, and has an amazing attitude, and she's full of great stories about my mom when she was young, and my other cousins, and my grandparents. I love listening to family stories. It's how my grandparents remain alive to me. It's how I relate to my mom as the young woman she was-- not terribly unlike me, as it turns out.
The funny thing about cancer is it can, honestly, be a gift. It can reconnect us to people we love and don't always remember to call. It can remind us what is precious. It can uncover a memory left tucked away someplace-- forgotten gems in the back corners of our life's closet.
So on this hot, but dry and breezy Monday I am blessed with the gift of a free ride up town with a really nice shuttle driver, and my wonderful cousin Anna. Life is good.