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My friend Christine sent me two awesome cancer books (I can’t wait to blog about cancer presents!).  One of them has a few pages of resources in the back.  I looked up some of the “young women with cancer” blogs, and I found that many were discontinued.  I momentarily felt mad that I was guided to these sites, but then it struck me: cancer is in their past.  I know that one day cancer will be in my past, but until that moment, I did not really feel that truth.
There was a brief thunderstorm yesterday.  I was outside when it overtook the sky, and hustled to put animals in the barn while holding tightly to Jenna’s collar, to keep her from running away.  As the storm moved on and the sun emerged, I returned to my work.  It was sunny and yet I felt cold droplets on my bare shoulders and arms.  I mused: the sunshower is a brief moment in time when storm and beauty co-exist, much akin to my life with cancer.  I feel like my life is in complete turmoil, and yet I am teeming with love for my life and everything and everyone in it.
I’ve been told that winter in Steamboat lasts nine months.  If snow is indicative of the seasons, then I argue that it’s winter year-round here.  For the past few weeks, the cottonwood trees have been shedding their seed encapsulated in fluffy, white fiber.  The seeds gently float around in the air, moving slower than time, and eventually land, coating the grass in white.  I love looking out the windows to this summer winter wonderland, and believe that I will enjoy this marvel for endless summers to come.
Mulder & Dora, loving the summer life: