Behind the clouds

And then there are the rainy Sundays. The kind of days that call for my improvisations skills at its best. For quick pasta meals whipped together from
the contents of the kitchen cupboard. For healing kisses on feverish toddler heads.

Life floats around us and it's sometimes hard to stay connected. I couldn't be more aware of Kenji's condition and of the upcoming transplantation though. Besides, the tasks that present themselves to me are impossible to ignore: I cook, wipe snotty noses and rub chests with 'miracle ointment' a.k.a. Vicks VapoRub. I'm indeed seeing what's right in front of me. Yet a part of me feels absent.

Every day, and I really mean e-ve-ry day, I unintentionally reflect on the life I have. The strange and abnormal life. The challenging life, that becomes even a tad more challenging the very minute you think you have mastered it a bit... It's not that I don't want this life: I love it. It's simply so unbelievably far removed from the life I used to have, that it takes a great deal of effort to fully grasp it as mine.
The mirror tells me I'm O.K. - more than O.K. actually. Someone who went through cancer herself told me months ago: "Trust me, one day you'll recognize your 'new' life simply as your life." That day has come.