One perfect morning

 

I woke up early this morning, around six, and lay in bed in a very pleasant semi-daze while the Hero MD slept beside me.

In spite of yesterday's horrific seismic events courtesy of SCOTUS, and the fact that they continue to haunt me today in a way that Trump's election in 2016 did, I had a good sleep. I've been pounding back water—two litres at a time—to remain hydrated and flush the chemicals out of my body. It seems to be working. While yesterday I couldn't remember the word "hibiscus" at the health food store, I felt clear-headed and rested this morning.

After awhile, I realized I wasn't going back to sleep, and I decided to get up and take Beckett to the park. I got dressed and went downstairs. He looked at me from his dog bed as if to say, "What are YOU doing up at this hour...?" I told him to get his leash, and that we were going for a walk. Wryly he lumbered over to the where his leash was kept and brought it to me, still with that "Seriously? Is this actually going to happen?" look on his face. I sighed, because I hadn't had any coffee yet at the Labrador was shedding attitude.

I always forget how graceful early morning in summer is, particularly in our neighbourhood. The trick is getting that sweet-spot hour before the sun starts baking everything. This was that hour. I could smell flowers everywhere. There were birds in the trees speaking their own morning thoughts to each other, and everything was very, very green.

At his age, Beckett is no fan of the heat—any heat—to we didn't get very far. He did his business and smelled the tree trunks and fences and flowerbeds, but when he was done, he was done, and he trotted home at a much quicker pace than he'd set out. But it was lovely nonetheless to be just another early-morning Cabbagetown dog walker, nodding at other dog walkers whose names we never know, even if we know their dogs' names.

After I fed him and gave him some fresh water, I decided to treat myself to a muffin and a cup of coffee from the Epicure deli on Parliament Street, one of my favourite go-to spots in the neighbourhood. It's run by a wonderful family with a knack for hiring really lovely young staff, and the food is superb.

For the first time in my life, I was the first person in the shop as they were opening up. The AC felt wonderful on my face, and the shop had the same fresh, rested feeling that I did. I selected a blueberry muffin and a small coffee with cream and sugar, because, literally and metaphorically, I've felt deprived of cream and sugar for the past month.

On the way home, I was remembering that the Hero MD and I first moved to Cabagetown in the fall of 1984. We had just met that summer and we fell in love, hard. We got engaged that Christmas Eve, and started this whole marvellous travelling circus of life.

We've lived in other houses, in other places, but this neighbourhood always felt like home, and never more so than this morning, for some reason. Maybe it was the early morning warmth, maybe it was the silence, maybe it was the sweet anonymity of being just another anonymous person walking down familiar streets without wearing my history, but remembering everything.

From the moment I was diagnosed with cancer this spring, I made a promise to myself to not build up any false hopes, or create fantasies. I promised myself that I would deal in facts, and build on those, and work with them, and make them work with me. Reality has always been my most reliable friend. If I can "own" the difficult parts, then I've paid for my right to celebrate the joys.

Still, this morning, I allowed myself to just revel in my sense of bien-être and to take it heart. To feel good, and to feel OK about feeling good; to feel optimistic about feeling good, and to run with that. God knows what the future will hold—success, I hope, but I know that harder days are coming.

That said, I felt an impossible-to-ignore spark in me this morning, in all that early-summer beauty, and it spoke to me. It put me back in my body, and it turned up the light in my soul. I feel good, and I feel optimistic. Even if it's just a chimera, I'll take it. It's good to be alive on a morning as beautiful as this one.

And Beckett is awake again, and he wants a bite of my blueberry muffin.