Today

            The sun shines.  A hummingbird hovers in the greenery behind the house.  A breeze lifts the evergreen branches.  I’m warming up at the computer after my foray outdoors . . .

            When I first step out the front door, the 50-degree cold surprises me as does the humming activity out away from my house.  The extra car parked next to John’s house tells me that Michelle is cleaning today.  The drone of the mower and the open shop door alert me to Steve and Coletta’s presence doing yard work.

            In the coolness of my brother’s basement, I stack stainless steel bowls to soak in the sink.  A dryer full of sheets waits for me to fold them, and the load of clean jeans is ready to toss in the dryer.  I set the knobs on high and very dry, then turn to loading the washer with a basketful of T-shirts.

            With washer filling, dryer spinning, and dishes soaking, the morning chores at John’s house are done.  I step back into the biting breeze, glad for sun instead of rain.  I stop to talk with Coletta, who is putting the electric mower away.  She tells me how unhappy the cougars were with her trimming and mowing activities around the cage perimeter:  Craiger hissing and Tiva hiding.  I ask how she is doing:   just a few days ago she got the breast biopsy news, and it was not good.

            Her forthrightness is refreshing:  “I spent a few days crying and yelling and asking ‘Why me?’—I had to get all that out of my system.  I’m seeing my regular doctor this week, and waiting to hear from the oncologist to get my treatment plan started.” 

            I ask a couple questions and listen as she talks some more.  She knows she has some rough days ahead:  no sugarcoating the situation for her.  She shows a rare blend of acceptance and spunk that will serve her well in battling cancer. 

            . . . The teapot whistles, and I pour the boiling water for brewed cocoa.  The sun still shines, the breeze still blows, but the hummingbird is gone.