Anniversary

I love salami sandwiches. To satisfy my craving, I made one this afternoon, even including mozzarella cheese, an additive I usually avoid to save fat grams. The sandwich was made even more delectable when I toasted my favorite wheat bread. Satisfied with my creation, I took the sandwich outside in order to enjoy to sunshine and admire the passing golfers.

Relaxed and content, I glanced to my left and spied my grandma’s, DeeDee’s rose bush. For those who do not know, we purchased my grandma’s house from my parents about 10 years ago and there are certain aspects of the house that will always be DeeDee’s. One of them is this white rosebush. Today, I noticed that the petals on the roses were extraordinarily white, wherein they are usually more of a cream color, were usually brown around the edges and often had pinkish spots on the petals. It was a bright day, but even as I approached, the lily white color reflected the light in a way that I never remember seeing before. I was puzzled. I never care of the rose bush the way I should. Our gardener only trims it back, year after year.

As I returned to my seat on the patio, I had a fleeting thought that the rose, pure and beautiful, reflected my own self. Pure and beautiful. I thought the dots were like my cancer and the not so beautiful cream color with tattered edges that the roses used to be, represented the way my life was prior to cancer. Very symbolic, in my mind. I had a moment.

I was diagnosed with cancer on November 12, 2009. I celebrated my year anniversary of survivorship on Friday. My husband bought me an exquisite bouquet of pink flowers. We celebrated dinner at the Bali Hai Restaurant, where we splurged by ordering hors d’oeuvres and dessert. We talked. We laughed. We reflected on where we have been and where we are going. I shared with him my inner most thoughts about the person I am today. A survivor.

So, the day after this celebration, as I sat and admired this beautiful rose bush. In my yard. At my house, my children inside doing things that kids do. My husband busying himself with chores. All is right in my world. And the image of DeeDee's beautiful white roses will be forever be burned in my brain as a symbol of my past and my future.