Dare I get hopeful today?
The last poisonous day of chemo is tomorrow. There'll still be weeks before I'm better but I think I can chance feeling optimistic about getting back to myself.
I often blog about having waited for the sun to warm my bones after the long winter months only to spend most of my time indoors, hardly noticing the lovely days pass me by. I've been keeping myself down and detached having figured out that I must "wait" to feel better.
Waiting has become familiar. Waiting for chemo to end, waiting for strength to return, waiting to paint. I think of the world beyond myself in all it's impulse. How many amazing things have come and gone while I've been waiting? How many birh and deaths? How many orbits and rotations and changes have gone one while I've been still? As if I live on a different time plane, slowed down and other-dimentional, moving through space like moving through pudding.
Soon the wait will be over and I will be mobile again. It will feel so splendid to be in my body completely. To draw a deep breathe and know it is myself and not some drug that enables me.
I'll look for signs of hair and nails, nose and skin to return to healthiness.
And the greatest prize will be to stand at the easel and make messy marks to my heart's content; to make my own vision of the world unapologetically. To plum the shallow depths (as Keith used to say) and find them so deep as to lead me to find the world that is mine. For what else is there but to remake yourself anew to the world everyday? Know who I am even in the unknowing of who I am. I can't show you what I see, exactly but you can see for yourself. I please myself. That's enough, isn't it?