in which Megan sits and sees a view during Lent 2011
The bell meditation ends. I open my eyes and write.
I remember when my mom rang the bell to signal her last chemo (again). She had five more regimens after that.
I saw her again last night. We were in her bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, and I was lacing up my shoes to get ready for a run.
Her hair was her salt-n-pepper 2007 ‘do, but her face looked exactly like mine. My hair is just like hers, but longer because I couldn’t bear to cut it for a whole year. The only time she liked my hair long was when she didn’t have any of her own.
In the dream, I thought about how I’d been in bed recently–sick and tired–and how now I was getting up to run. But for how long? How long until I’m in bed again, like her. How long until I store up all my energy just to make it to church? How long until I can only sit up in bed?
And then I woke up.
