by Melissa Powell
If you were to see the scars that rest on my now flattened chest you might not consider me lucky, but you are not looking deep enough.
If you were to watch me climb out of bed each morning stiff from the medicine that continues to keep the stalker at bay you would not consider me lucky, but you are still not looking deep enough.
If you were to sit with me as I wait for the next scan that could determine whether I will see my children grow you would not consider me lucky, but you have yet to see the miracle that has occurred.
Before cancer I raced through life running towards an invisible finish line. I often neglected to stop and look at the change in scenery, the changes in my children’s faces, or the amazing beauty this life has to offer.
Before cancer I would often put work before family, obligations before fun, and daily life before living.
Before cancer I was in a dark room with only a flashlight to see the things that surrounded me.
Cancer has flooded my once dark room with light.
I can now see all of the beauty that encompasses my life.
I see my children snuggled close beside me telling me of their dreams.
I can see my beautiful partner who I barely knew these last thirteen years.
I can see that quiet meditation calms my once racing mind.
I can finally see that life is now not yesterday or tomorrow but is unfolding as quickly as I type these words.
I was lost before cancer, floating through life like the last leaf falling from a barren tree.
I found myself in cancer and found that luck is something that surrounds you every day; you just have to turn the lights on.
