A post penned a couple of weeks ago offered a surface view of the spacious pool area of the west coast oasis that has captured the heart of our family’s annual get-together during summertime’s most beautiful weather.
Though only one pool can be seen in the photo posted, above, three pools complete the composite picture that would clearly be seen if you and I were eagles—flying with cell phones clutched securely within talons—snapping photos of the resort from a birds-eye view, high in the sky above my family, which has always preferred to enjoy the two pools seen in the photos, below.
The birds-eye view, described above, is my intuitive way of leading our minds toward absorbing the fact that just as these pools are layered, the same proves true of my emotions, most especially since I had No choice other than absorbing the fact that despite having endured many months of chemo followed by two life saving surgeries, one day apart, followed by chemo, followed by the removal of my right lung, followed by a fourth tumor surgery—all experienced within two years time—I found myself listening with a heavy heart to my oncologist express these dreaded words aloud—your cancer, having metastasized, is now considered to be stage four. And though, weeks later, my surface reaction continues to be calmly composed, my inner sadness is felt, throughout the day, every day, as though an ocean of tears that I feel pooling behind my smiles remains unshed. And if you ask why I’ve yet to cry whenever my sense of grief feels overwhelming, deep inside, your patience is requested while I await my power of intuition to emerge with an insight-driven answer to the same question that I’ve been asking my innermost self …
Annie
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