Dream of Delusion

It's not me who has cancer.  Nor my brother.  It's not my sister's children. And yet the family feels the weight of my seventy-three year old sister's lymphoma.  My guts wrench.  And I want to run like hell.  I am reminded of my my mother, the mean-spirited, sad soul that she was.  Our schizophrenic maternal grandmother flew to Hawaii in search of Elvis. My mother didn't have a chance.  The impress of more than cancer takes grip as my older sister fights for her life.  But the way through is not to sprint in the opposite direction. Although it's my go to.  It's in noticing the heart-shaped leaf laying still against the concrete as I take a walk on my mother's birthday.  It's picking up a pair of binoculars while I sit on my backyard deck absorbing the morning sun.  Drawing near the Cardinal pair gracing the yard and woods around my home I feel wrapped in something bigger.  It's not wishing it were different that's the way to go here and now.  It's breathing in the not-only-cancer that is all around me.