Though I grew up in the 60's, I never was a child of the 60's like my 3 younger sisters.
I did break through some of Mom and Dad's barriers so they could be Flower Children. When I wanted to visit my future husband's family in New Jersey, Mom had to receive a written note from his mother. By the time my youngest sister, by only 6 years, reached her senior year in college, she just drove across the country with some boy, with no communication between anyone's mothers! I'm sure Bambi and Bobbi wore our parents down even further to earn Becky her freedom.
I wanted to come out, in the old way, not the new; to be the Queen of May or the Prom, whatever; to join the Junior League; to have the perfect wedding; to ride in limousines, yachts and private jets. Though I never did get to be Queen, I attended her a few times. I did all the other stuff. Even held the steering wheel of The Flying Cloud over Niagra Falls.
Today I opened a package from Bambi. It contained my Hippie Golden Arrow badge of achievement. It is a bracelet. I plan to wear it even after the gold color rubs off. Doesn't matter.
Bambi texted on Friday, "Did you get my gold Arrow?" "Yes, TY." I assumed she had send it telepathically during my chemo. The week before she sent me a photo of her, I think, temporary tattoo of gold arrows.
When advised to choose a color and a totem to help battle the cancer cells, golden arrows leapt to mind, and I asked the world to shoot them toward me and my cells.
But, no. This arrow is hard, sharp and very tangible. The point wraps around to nearly touch the its own feathers. Very bold and graphic. I'm sure those C-cells haven't a chance. The doctors can no longer feel any lumps or bumps.
The spirit/karma/story of this bracelet is heart warming/goosebumpingly wonderful/hippie fodder.
A young friend of Bambi's, whom I will call Amy, dropped in for a visit. (Bambi and Tracy have built a community over the last 30 years to rival Scott and Helen Nearing's/co-housing/Kibbutzes/Amish barn builders/Nature Conservancy.)
Bambi spotted the bracelet and nearly blurted out, "I need that." She refrained. Uncharacteristically, Amy stayed for a spot tea. Their usual interactions are short and sweet. During their visit, Bambi did find out where it came from. Amy said, "Goodbye and I love you, Bambi", also out of the ordinary. Bambi tried to buy one, with no success. When she reported back to Amy, she said she'd go to the other store and see if one were available there. Amy returned with a bracelet. Bambi asked, "How much do I owe you?" "Nothing. They were out. This is mine. Tell Berry I love her, too."
"I love you too, Amy".
All these tears and goosebumps have been gathering force for quite some time. It can be measured in decades, years, months. But the best measure of time is before and after the CANCER diagnosis.
Amy's story encapsulates the love, generosity, thoughtfulness, food, presents, help, notes and cards, parties, that have been heaped on me since people heard about the diagnosis. I am humbled by and grateful for the caring energy that is raining down on me.
I would have been a great Flower Child.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment