consuelacooks

cooking, poetry, and unapologetic intense moments in a life

Category: Cancer

12:06 AM, Irma, Fire and Verona.

It’s 12:06 Am and there are quiet hours at Gatito Vito’s salon except
there is no quiet to be had, but vague ethnicity and troubled
dreamers wondering where supper is next week and where the
next handshake will emerge in this orange drowned town north of Mississip-

And fire burns and ash churns and so many foxes and hawks find silence
in cubbyholes and sand traps made for scorpions but now they house
refugees of fur and far and hope and wet and the new world in spades
and Trump(s) and storms, cataclysms, conundrums, holes of comfort.

There are not enough water bottles to sell, enough aid, not enough
purifiers, too many diapers to hold feces, piss of fleeing babes,
not enough gas to fuel the flying multitudes. It is dangerous, you know.
The storm will come, you know. It is here. IT IS PRESENT. It’s now the

bedfellow you needed to look in the eye, only the electric is gone and
the water is red with cruiser escapes filmed for the pleasure of
so many internet wanderers, and they know their time is limited, so
precious this time they have to bear witness to it all, bone and marrow,

and we write each others’ books, we do. Like some kind of Victorian
journalist, bearded and boheme. Finding the chinks, the holes. and
calling it all for scandal. It’s a business, these days, the scandal.
it’s all we can do to keep up, to sleep and strum, to remain upright and

here we are, at the cusp of eternity wondering who we can be in the wake of it
all, is all, is some, and we love each other don’t we? Don’t we? Or rather yet,
Do we hope for the moment we understand melody again? Do we pine to wake
and know that we have become enough, and the screen is safe to close?

Your body surges with the cancer, looking for a sweet spot, and you, warrior, let it
know the eye is near, and it will have to stay the interest until Tuesday. You
smooth tiny Evan’s hair with promise as you board windows, knowing the wind
cannot rival this year, this trial, this manifest of scars. It is a day, a week of

wheat from chafe, light from stark, wonder from womb, and tender lullabies.

 

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Gratitude, or late night tangles and tangos

Deep in the Berkshires at a Medical Arts building with a dear friend who begins a long journey today. In the most delicate fashion I will describe what she is going through:

That SHIT is getting taken out of her breast today.

She, as always, is laughing and making everyone else laugh. She, still, takes care of all around her while harboring that hateful pod of disease in her beautiful breast. She brings chocolate to those who take care of her. She talks in adorable voices. She makes sure we are OK. This is what she does because this is who she is. She is a better person than most anyone I know. We all long to do something- ANYTHING for her. And in the wake of this recent and surprising development- we have all looked at what we HAVE compared to what WE DON’T and become a little more grateful. Things just don’t hold the weight they did a month ago. Even in her scariest hour, she is there- cheerleading us. As always, making us want to be better and better humans.

 

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This is her.

 

So, I am going to attempt to do a few things. Love more earnestly. Forgive. Listen. I am not skilled at these three. In general I glide through pretty selfishly. Pretty child-like. Pouty and temperamental. I need to get over that shit. Stat.

So- I’ve been in love recently. And even more recently desperately in like. And moreover, I have a bajillion great friends. And a cat. And a home. And I work with kids. And I have the means to speak my mind and use my body. I get to create beautiful things. I get to nourish people. I have strong hands and cancer-free breasts. My Mother hangs the moon on me and my Step-Dad is right behind her. I live with the most amazing girl who is someone I admire and laugh with. I spend time with a new friend now who is freaking adorable and so like me it is mind blowing- who isn’t afraid to break me if needed. I work for a company who organizes two weeks of meals, walking buddies, cleaning crew and backup help for employees who are having their life threatened by surprise tumors. I work free-lance for a great friend who has widened my world up here in the beautiful place I live. I have the best of friends. I have no enemies. I am alive and cancer-free. Very alive. Thanks, Universe.

I love you with all my heart.

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