I’m running away for the weekend; leaving Seattle in my wake.
Let’s just pretend that I don’t have 30 pounds of text books packed in my suitcase.
I’m headed off for a weekend of girl talk, yoga, beach combing and chick flicks with my ‘cancer girls,’ as my husband calls them. He always uses the possessive pronoun, your, as in your cancer girls. I’ve started thinking in those terms too: my cancer girls. It’s amazing, the bond you build when you go through a traumatic experience like cancer together. Maybe he’s right. I think, in a way, maybe we do belong to each other. I can’t imagine getting through cancer, or this time post-cancer (it’s never really in the past) without them.
Here’s to girl time.
Hopefully I’ll get my papers written, too.