No, it’s not my birthday – thank heavens. Birthdays seem to be stacking up like an obscene pile of carbs at the International House of Pancakes. But I am grateful for every one.
I just realized I have a survived a year with cancer. Every day since last August is a bonus on the Merry-Go-Round of life. Frankly, I thought I wouldn’t make it to Christmas, because they hinted that ovarian cancer was a death sentence.
It isn’t. In fact, it can be very positive if you look at it sideways and squint a little bit.
I’ve found that I’ve cherished each day far beyond those of my former shallow life. I’ve seen spectacular sunsets with my neighbors on the back porch – and sunrises on my front porch all by myself. Never have I known such peace, happiness, and freedom.
I don’t know why exactly, but I wouldn’t trade a day of the last year for my former life which I lived on auto-pilot.
Note: this month I will round up my “girl gang” Carolyn, Marie, Ruthie, Nancy and Beth to join us on the ride down Route 66. The class of 65 is turning 66. No way. Middle age is creeping up on us but we are too fabulous to notice.