Dear Friends and Family,
Today, Nancy woke up looking bright, more alert, and ready to do something for which I’ve waited three weeks: have fun. She barely mumbled, “Good morning,” before loudly hitting me with the zinger, “Your hair is looking a little ragged, Winnie.” Nancy was being kind. (What little hair I still have was more than ragged.)
Disheveled?
Too long?
(Probably both.)
Jayna, who had just arrived to join us, quickly chimed in, “Yeah, Dad, you are having a bad hair day.”
I walked over and stood in front of the mirror above the sink on the far wall. I saw a much-too-familiar sight. My hair extended north and south, east and west. All at once.
“All right, Jayna. You can say what you want, but Mom has no room to talk . . . now that she has less hair than me.”
Laughter echoed throughout the room, the wonderful sound emanating from both of my girls. Such a sweet sound always warms my heart. The merriment continued for nearly an hour as we chided each other about our dress (or in Nancy’s case, the lack of it), our various mannerisms, and even stupid things we’d said years ago—like when I confused Brad Pitt with another actor who had dark hair. Each of our stomachs ached by the time Nancy’s chuckling stopped and her eyes closed.
Today, for some unexplained reason, Nancy seems more beautiful than ever before. Her entire bald head seemed shiny this morning—like Charles Barkley.
Last night, I discovered a distinctive mole atop the front right side of Nancy’s all too shiny head. Even if her face was hidden, I can now distinguish Nancy’s head in a line of a hundred bald heads.
I kissed the newly discovered mole last night and plan to do it several times a day.
And I will cherish each moment.
In fact, I kissed it softly just minutes ago, so as not to awaken Nancy.
Summary: We are learning to have fun again.
Love and laughter to each of you,
Winnie