Dear Friends and Family,
My recent silence reflects a relatively tranquil five weeks. The past month has been more calming than a night at the symphony, balmier than a tropical beach at sunset, and gentler than a summer afternoon breeze.
After almost a year of turmoil, I am home with Nancy.
Though I’ve always tried to appreciate each and every day, I didn’t fully realize that the most mundane things can be fun. I used to dread such tasks as doing the laundry, cleaning the house, or unpacking from a long trip away. Now every daily activity has joy attached because it is done with or for Nancy. And the things that I already cherished are even more special—a tasty meal prepared in our kitchen, movies and the NBA playoffs on our new home theatre, or walks in the woods along the river.
A week ago, as I examined three daffodils poking their bright-yellow heads through ground still covered by snow, I couldn’t help but wonder about many things in my life.
Is Nancy as excited as I am to be far away from nurses and needles, sterile smells and scant scenery, bells and buzzers?
Is she enjoying our small, secluded island of paradise, savoring each moment like a sip of fine wine?
Is she still consumed with making it through each day?
Is she worrying about tomorrow?
And am I selfish to want her to be with me every moment of the day?
We’ve been at home now for five weeks, sleeping together in our comfortable bed. As always, I awaken first. I quietly linger to watch her gentle breathing, but since today is her weekly Salt Lake City doctor’s appointment, I know Nancy has to get up two hours earlier than her normal 11 a.m. rising time.
As an alarm, I gently rub her head, which is covered increasingly with hair. It is no longer stubble standing straight in the air. The finely peppered strands are soft and long enough to twirl and run my fingers through gently. Slowly one eye, then the other, opens. The brilliance of their sky-blue color strikes me and momentarily brings heat to my face.
“Good morning, Nancy. How do you feel this morning?”
Nancy hesitates, wrinkling her forehead. She puts her hand on top of mine and rubs her head with me.
“It finally hit me last night, Winnie. I almost woke you up.”
“What, my love?”
Nancy sits up and puts her hand on my right cheek while placing a kiss on the other.
“I’m happy. I am really happy.”
Nancy’s smile widens, reinforcing her words as I remove a Kleenex and feign wiping my nose.
Instead, I gently and delicately touch my eyes.
Summary: Nancy and I are at home, living almost normally. And we are both daring to be happy again.
All our love,
Winnie