I was at a loss for what to write in here today. Earlier, I wrote a submission for a fellow blogger’s December blog series. I wasn’t feeling particularly blocked until I came over here to my own blog and settled down to create a post for the day.
I drank some coffee, ate some cold leftover Chinese food, smoked a couple of cigarettes. Still nothing.
I thought about what I had written earlier for the other blogger, and beat myself up a little. How could those words flow so easily, and leave nothing left over for you guys? Then my gaze fell on the antique trunk in my living room.
My mother’s trunk. My favorite thing of hers. She just recently gave it to me, but in my eyes, it will always be hers. She’s had it for as long as I can remember. I can’t look at it without thinking of her. It reminds me of her solid strength. Her stubbornness. Her beauty. This trunk reminds me of her heart. Her ability to keep the people she loves secure inside it and shielded, no matter what happens outside. The dings and scratches on the trunk are evidence of its ability to keep it’s contents safe and unharmed, just as the lines on my mother’s face are evidence of her weathering incredible things to keep the people she loves protected and happy.
Today is her birthday. Today is also the day she undergoes a mastectomy. I am told this is a preventative surgery. When I talked with her earlier, she seemed upbeat and cheerful. There wasn’t a hint of fear, or worry in her voice. She sounded just as she does any other day. Even now, on her own birthday, as she is about to undergo a major and painful procedure, she is unwilling to project anything upon those she loves that may cause them worry, or sadness.
This is the mark of a great woman, and today, on her birthday, I thought the world should know about her.