Open the Windows

Children are such amazing creatures. They find joy and pure, complete excitement over the smallest things. 

Elena was very tired today, from the moment she woke up. So much so, that she napped on the way out to Philadelphia. Not entirely unusal when we leave the house before 7, but today we didn’t get on the road until almost 8:30. She was lethargic during chemo, sitting on my lap and snuggling most time. Even the nurses noticed she was not her usual, high energy self that they’ve all come to love and appreciate. 

Driving home, she was fighting sleep. To the point of tears running down her face; not from crying, but from blankly staring off into oblivion for an indefinite amount of time without blinking. Trying to cheer her up, I asked her if she wanted the window open, as it is absolutely beautiful out today. She cracked the smallest smile and nodded yes, not knowing what that even meant. The moment the window cracked, her eyes grew wide with excitement over this new found experience, and a smile of pure joy lit up her face. Carefully watching her wonder and delight as I’m driving was…such a beautiful moment. Stopped at a red light I spent the entire 2 minutes with my eyes glued to her from the rearview mirror, committing the moment to memory. 

It’s symbolic, I think, this seemingly small period of time. I’m upset to see Elena so lethargic today, and seeing as she slept beautifully last night I can only assume the effects of chemo are already starting to take it’s toll. However, driving down the long road of Rt. 70, the sky over cast and dreary, noticing Elena’s lack of energy…This is, more than likely, what the next nine weeks hold for us. However, with Spring right around the corner, feeling the refreshing breeze circulate through the car with the window down just a little and Elena radiating happiness, was a poignant reminder that Spring is the season of rebirth. Nature feels it, as the trees begin to bud in preparation. The birds begin to chirp louder than they have in months, hardly able to contain their glee. In a few short weeks all that is dead and colorless will be green and full of life. I saw Elena feel this today with that silly window open. I took a deep breath in and allowed myself to soak in this moment and look forward with the same joy and appreciation that she did. The next nine weeks aren’t going to all that great. But they can be good. They can be full of tiny moments, like the one today, where we can all take a deep breath in. Our Spring, our rebirth is coming, for Elena and for all of us.  Thank you, window 😊

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One thought on “Open the Windows

  1. We go to CHOP too. My son (5) has anaplastic ganglioglioma, which is just a fancy word for stage 4 aggressive brain cancer. I have also blogged our journey. The only difference between our perspectives is, that we were told there is no cure and that he had 3-9 months to live after having almost died during surgery. My husband and I camped at Google university and started choosing oils, tinctures, supplements etc ect. ….no, his hair never fell out, but we still have to make him eat and take things he hates. Daily, but we have out lived his predicted 3-9 months. Memorial Day will be the two year mark from his Diagnosis. His spirits are high and yes he has one met. But, his last three Mri’s have been stable. I guess in all this nonsensical rambling I’m doing, I just wanted you to know that all of us cancer mom’s really do connect with your words in a very real way.

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