I love Billy Collins. He makes me think differently about the things I think about. His sometimes irreverent, and certainly candid perspective always stops me long enough to think: Really? Do I need to take myself that seriously? It’s refreshing.
What’s not refreshing is that in this month of heightening everyone’s awareness about breast cancer, and celebrating survivors and their warrior stories, I’ve just found out my aunt has bone cancer.
Meds to help her pain.
My mother beside herself with it all, but sporting a stiff upper lip.
All I can think of is how my aunt always has that knack of making things seem funny with little or no effort, a tough thing for some. She’s one of those people everyone else wants to be near, soaking her up. But I’ve always thought it was at some detriment to her.
I could say more, but it makes me sad.
I know I’m supposed to have a stiff upper lip and all that sort of thing, but I suck at that. People just think I’m good at it.
Pardon me if I don’t put up a yellow ribbon.
But I’ll find a star and put her name on it tonight.
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