A Thread that Binds

The summer is hot, well, more sizzling than I ever remember—a reminder of simpler times is recorded in my voice mail, leaving me at a loss of words.  And that brought the memory of what my mother said, “Cat got your tongue?  But  I would choose to nod with a  smile, keeping my thoughts to myself. It is preferable not to say anything that was unnecessary or hurtful words.

And when I thought about those times when the silence grew between my mother and me, the words of my doctor, “Ms. Brown, I regret to inform you that…. “ Hung in the air. It was as if I am reliving an old memory. I prefer for things to be different. If only I had a ‘magic wand” or knew of a spell to conjure and make everything back to the way things were.

But, as I like to say, "It is what it is.”

“Ms. Brown, I-"- I heard them once before five years ago. Only it wasn't my doctor who told them. It was my father’s doctors whose voices still echo in my ears. “Ms. Brown, please understand there is nothing more we can do for your father.” My brothers Phil and Paul stood by our mothers’ side as those words spilled out. Her swollen blue eyes, the color of a pale summer’s sky, auburn hair season with salt, skin pasty white. I wanted to rush by her side as well, but my feet felt frozen in place. All I remember was my heartache and the icy water running through my veins, as the tears fell from my deep blue eyes, like the endless oceans rising and falling, till there was nothing left for me but to walk away.

But now isn’t the time to think about it. I have my problems, and I need to focus on what is happening now and not the past. The coffee pot is brewing on the kitchen counter as the microwave beeps, signaling that my breakfast of leftover eggs is ready.  Not the best breakfast, but at least it is something to sustain my appetite. And after all, I need to keep up my strength, and it is a lesson that my father had instilled in me growing up.

“Jan,” he would say, “ You need to start the day with a good wholesome breakfast.”

“Yes, dad”

 The coffee cup is hot,  “Ah,” the liquid travels down my throat into my body. Long-awaited caffeine stimulates every nerve awake as I get ready to face another day. It’s not that I would have chosen to stay in bed, but I would have preferred sleeping a little longer if given a chance.

“What’s new?”

“Not much,” I answer

“So how about some breakfast?’

“Not today, mom.”

“Hon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, mom,” I assured her, sipping my coffee, I could tell her, but that would mean that I accepted those words that my doctor told me.

“Well, how about grabbing lunch?”

“Maybe some other time.”

By now, my microwave eggs resemble rubber, another deposit into the trash can, “Another one bites the dust.” Scrounging through my cupboards, finding a half-empty box of ‘Cheerios. “Breakfast of champions,” I said, pouring the cereal into a bowl, drowning it with sugar and some milk. ‘Good enough,’  A cherished memory pops in my mind. It was a Saturday, like today,  eating breakfast, mom was working, and my dad was in charge of making breakfast for my brothers and me. They had finished eating by the time I sat down at the kitchen table, so my dad sat down and joined me eating a bowl of Cheerios. We spent the morning chatting about school and other things that were important to a nine girl.

“Hey, sis, what’s up?” Phil said

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

“Oh, you know not much, a little this and a little that”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you talked to mom?”

“Yeah, she called a few minutes before you. Why?

“Nothing, I was only wondering, that’s all.”

“Oh, are you sure there's no other reason?”

“Yep”

“Well, nice chatting with you later, gator.”

I threw on a pair of sneakers, a perfect fit for my so-called outfit, getting ready for a run around the block. The heat from the sun beats down and forms tiny drops of sweat that begin to sting my eyes. I knew I should have gone for a run  earlier this morning, but, "That's the way it is." I release a minuscule dose of respiration. I went around the first corner, weaving past a few teenagers outside Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s small grocery store entrance.

They have welcomed me into their lives from the first time I walked into the store. And from then on, we shared a bond,  like a family.   It's not like other people in the neighborhood. Some of them weren't very friendly toward me. I started out wondering if it was a mistake to come here.

However, they are different, looking at what’s inside a person's heart and not the surface. That's why I felt a unique connection to them, and they're special in a way, even if I can't explain it. They loved me as a person, unlike anyone else. It's refreshing to know that the Smiths have accepted me for who I am, and they haven’t let me down.

"Hello," Mrs. Smith said. She wipes her leather hands on the apron.

“Hi, Mrs. Smith, it's good to see you up and about."

“Thank you, dear.” She said, “What can I do for you today?”

“Mrs. Smith, I'll have some water."

"Are you sure there's nothing more you need?"

"Yeah, I'm sure about that."

 The sweet brown eyes of  Mrs. Smith stared at me. It was like she was able to read my mind. I know they are two special people, but I did not expect this from others outside my family.  Deep down, I want to share what's troubling me, but I can’t, not yet.

“Janneke, dear?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Smith, I promise.,”

****

Sitting by the window as the afternoon sun shines in, drinking a bottle of water, I glanced over to our family's picture, and things were different then. It was a simpler time, but now my doctor’s words, “Ms. Brown, I regret to inform you that you... you have cancer.”  And the thread that had once bound us as a family will once again make us strong.