thoughts while flying home

The unknown can make you crazy. If I knew what the future holds, I’d either breathe a sigh of relief, or hang on tight to every last moment. I probably should do both, here and now, without insight on what’s ahead, even though my mom will only have it one of two ways– she’ll beat lymphoma, or she will die of her disease and/or its treatment. At the moment I’m mostly just breathing shallowly, in lots of fears and regrets.

Why didn’t we go to Norway?

Why didn’t I drive from Tucson to Phoenix to visit her more often?


For the record, my mom and I shared many of the best days of my life. Even during my adolescence, a time that tries most mother-daughter relationships, we had tons of fun. Belly laughs, great food, trips to Mexico. Our relationship has been punctuated by joy for as long as I can remember. I can’t say I haven’t appreciated her, because from the very depths of my gut I have. But I want more time, more adventures. I never thought my mom would be critically ill at the age of 57, cancer threatening to snuff out the dreams of her meeting my son or daughter, traveling to Europe, enjoying the leisures of retirement.

I’m putting my faith in second chances, so my mom and I can see the fjords together, or once again walk the beaches in Puerto Vallarta. I am also grateful for the joy we had, and for my very excellent fortune in getting the best mother a girl could ask for.

For those of you with healthy parents, remember– they will leave you eventually. Unless you leave first, and that’s hardly an attractive alternative. So enjoy them! Take in the world with your mom or dad at your side! Someday, you’ll be glad you did.

1 thought on “thoughts while flying home

  1. Barbara Snow

    Dearest Katie,
    What a beautiful post. I believe in those 2nd chances too, and long for the day I can show her my beloved Italy. I see us eating tons of pasta and gelato and walking through the streets of Florence taking it all in. I won’t take no for an answer on this.
    Take care sweet girl. Remember to breathe.
    Love, Barb


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