Radiation Reflection, Weekend 3, Sunday

The day I received my diagnosis,
I visited a dying friend,
Her waist-length chestnut hair draped
over her as she paused a sitcom
so we could talk.
Her two cats were at her sides
in a bed set up in her living room,
Her husband playing the ukulele outside.

We laughed about puppies, kittens,
and grad school -
shared frustration over the state of TSA,
cancelled flights, and
her limited time with best friends.
I shared a book of poetry,
because poetry is medicine.

At her celebration of life yesterday,
it was clear she was famous,
had so many circles,
skills, and
gifts.
She had seen as much
of the world as she could
in 46 years,
said, “Buy the tickets!” and
made sure she did.

Her advice from my perspective:
Admit one - go.
Laugh like it will echo,
Open doors and lead,
Let the dust spin from your bike wheels,
Rise from ashes every time,
then make a plan for your own.
Send them to Japan, Spain Greece,
the Sandia Mountains, Taos,
Michigan.

Make sure to leave adventures
for your loved ones
here.