I had one of those moments this weekend. For the 8th year in a row, we went camping at Granger Lake for my birthday. It was fantastic. Linda was full of energy and felt great. It almost felt as if the last year hadn't happened at all.
That moment. As the morning sun began to warm the day, we sat on the beach while the kids played at the water's edge. It wasn't hot, it wasn't cold. The dogs ran up and down the beach sniffing everything they could. We had camped here many times, and walked that beach more times than I can remember, but this time was different. I looked over at Linda and she smiled, watching the kids search for fossils and shells. It was absolute contentment, something I hadn't seen from her in a while. I closed my eyes and burned that image into my brain. No matter what life has in store for us, nothing can take that moment away from me. I know she felt it too. We made the weekend last as long as possible. Neither of us wanted to leave.
It is Monday morning and Linda starts her last week of radiation today. This week is all about the boob. Her neck and underarm are done so this week they 'blast' the site of the original tumor. Good riddance! As far as the numbers go, we have a 75% chance of never seeing the cancer again. In Vegas, those are fantastic odds. You can play those odds all night long and always come out a winner. When you are fighting for your life, anything less than 100% is hard to accept, but that's just how these things work. Regardless, that moment in time on the beach will be mine forever.