Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
How often have you heard people say that when their life was threatened and they survived, they had a whole new lease on life? I’ve heard it a lot.
But that attitude hasn’t been true for me.
Before cancer, I had a wonderful and rewarding, although low-key life. After cancer, I have a wonderful and rewarding, although a still low-key life. I have had a couple of insights about life, but nothing that changed my entire perspective. My foundational beliefs, my commitment to solitary time and relationships, my love for learning, are pretty much the same.
Or so I thought.
Recently, however, I noticed this strange shift that marks the majority of my day. A number of things I’ve enjoyed doing or experiencing seem sweeter, and fill me with a new kind of pleasure.
When I go for my morning walk, I look for a little brown rabbit who eats away at the grass, hardly noticing my presence. He looks up from his munching, as if to say, oh yeah, it’s you again. And continues to munch. He’s become part of the landscape, part of my landscape, of the sun now peeking through the morning clouds, rather than my walking mostly in the dark. I look for Gunner, a big German shepherd who is such a sweetheart, and Zoey, a British mastiff who is huge and sweet and loves to have her head scratched.
And when I return home, I have a long swig of ice water. It has to have at least two ice cubes and the cold water is sooo refreshing. Then breakfast has other delights—my favorite Kashi cereal with a small amount of cooked Cream of Wheat and raisins with almond milk, heated in the microwave, topped with sliced honeycrisp apples. It is so delicious; I savor every mouthful, making it last as long as I can. My coffee is brewed into a metal thermal carafe, so that every sip I pour is hot and yummy; no sugar for me. Then I can enjoy my morning, catching up with friends on Ricochet, watching how the “wind” is blowing, exchanging thoughts, encouraging writers, laughing together. (I swear that Ricochetti have fine-tuned my funny bone!) There is meditation, researching new ideas, and study.
Yes, the day has other delights—sometimes a turkey sandwich with crispy lettuce at lunch—I like the lettuce mainly because it crunches. No mayonnaise, thank you very much, just mustard. And a dill pickle on the side. And fresh blueberries with a small dollop of cottage cheese; each berry seems to have its own special flavor. Then there are our rituals for planning for dinner and cleaning up; Jerry doesn’t trust me around our beautiful wine glasses, so he tries to grab them first before we clean up. I let him, since I know it’s another way that he looks out for me, for us.
I know this is a mish-mash of reflections, but my day has become a colorful and delightful tapestry of tastes, landscapes, and sounds. Life is not earth-shattering; it is rich. The hours don’t drift by; they punctuate moments with satisfaction and comfort.
How lucky can a person be.Published in