“Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror up to where you’re bravely
working. Expecting the worst, you look, and instead here’s the joyful face
you’ve been wanting to see. Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as bird wings.”
– Rumi
Walking through Newly Clear-cut Woods
Waking up after Surgery
Where did the trail go?
Where is my husband?
Is the sled hill still here somewhere?
Is there still fluid in my lungs?
Why can’t I get a handle on this landscape?
Why can’t I get a handle on this pain?
Can I please have a landmark?
Can I please have some pain meds?
Why do you have to be so harsh?
Why do you have to be so harsh?
Where is the familiar comfort of these woods?
Where is the familiar comfort of my caregivers?
How long will I grieve this denuded landscape?
How long will I weep from this anesthesia?
When will I get through this wetland morass?
When will the attendant bring me back to my room?
Where is my intuitive compass to orient me?
Where is my intuitive compass to orient me?
How will I trust these woods again?
How will I trust this body again?
Can my new path feel normal someday?
Can my new scars feel normal someday?
Why does this have to be so hard?
Why does this have to be so hard?
Oh, Lady Birch Tree, is that you?
Oh, Mike, is that you?
OK, so the cleared section begins here and ends there?
OK, so the incisions begin here and end there?
But how can I tell if my son’s climbing tree is gone or not?
But how can I tell if the damage to my kidneys is permanent or not?
Hey, is that my stalwart “guidepost stump” up ahead?
Hey, is that a giant flamingo decoration by my IV stand?
Lady Birch, shall we do another woodland dance party again soon?
Nurse, shall we do another hallway dance party again soon?
Terra firma.
Terra firma.
“Listen. Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward.
You are afraid you might forget, but you never will.
You will forgive and remember.”
– Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible
Head On and Heart Strong!
Love, Erica
Kids’ Almanac columnist Erica Chase-Salerno was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer in the Summer of 2015. To read more about her experience, visit https://hudsonvalleyone.com/tag/ericas-cancer-journey.
Join the family! 
