Bluebird, possibly…

Balminess for April – or maybe it’s just me, happy to be walking, walking, heading out on the path where I once walked nearly every day. I trek through the cemetery; I have friends who shun this space, but I’ve lived near cemeteries for years, with their hidden and true stories. At the top, the grass is all brown, not a hint of spring green yet. A bluebird flies by. I stop, mesmerized. I’ve seen so few bluebirds in Vermont. Could this be a bluebird? I follow the creature as it lands from stone to stone, then darts into an apple tree. A little breeze kicks up. Sunlight spikes through the clouds. Abruptly, I’m ecstatic, as if a magical wind whooshes around me. I might as well be in Portugal or Spain, some country I long to visit, but I’m here, in April-brown Hardwick, Vermont, completely happy.

And for the very first time, I have faith I will survive this cancer, that in fact I am surviving this cancer, that my life will go on in mundane and marvelous ways. I’m meant to be here.

Thank you to those who generously donated to my daughter’s participation in Dartmouth Cancer Center‘s annual fundraiser. I’m beyond touched.

Bluebird
Charles Bukowski

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you….