My man moved in on Halloween 2013, and we had Thanksgiving, our wedding, a honeymoon, my birthday, and Christmas, then New Year's, 2014, and the spring semester started, with both of us teaching, and then: screeching brakes. At the end of January, the plans we had to kick back and relax after the fun whirlwind were swept up into another whirlwind, a scary one, one with mortal coils, spirals of fear and worry. Cancer is confusion, and irony, and self-blame, and vulnerability. It is also the strangest gift, one that keeps on giving: the most ordinary days and events become rewards and blessings, grace sprinkled on generously, with light and warmth, and unmitigated joy.
The past few weeks, at last post-treatment, have been filled with a flurry of delayed newlywed gratification. We have moved furniture, and spackled, and shopped for paint, and painted, and today, we went to IKEA. This sounds like trite, consumeristic nonsense. But for the past months, though I pushed myself to do many, many things that had to be done in spite of the hideous treatments, I could not rally the physical or psychological energy to go up to IKEA and make my home better suited for three of us, no matter how often I thought of it, gazing longingly at the catalog and website.
Today, we drove there, roamed around the maze of color and texture, laughed about ourselves and people there, ate gravlax, hoisted flat-pack, braved the snail checkout, and put it all in the car. Today, I stopped dozens of times to feel the rush of lucky roll over me because I don't think it would ever have been possible to enjoy the divine ordinary of a trip to IKEA if I hadn't gotten cancer. Today, ambling through with dear husband, planning rooms to comfortably hold us all, making a home, making a life, just like normal newlyweds, was a hard earned gift.
To live life with love, grace, and gratitude is a true blessing! As are you <3
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