The sun wasn’t much past rising. All the snowflakes in the air reflected the light in a way that made it seem later than it was. I walked into the dark kitchen and looked out the window and paused. The whole scene was filled with snow. Soft snowflakes that seemed to be hanging thick in the air, still.
“That is kind what Leukemia feels like.” I thought.
A voice inside me responded, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, really. I just look out at those snowflakes- do you see them? They are just hanging in the air. They aren’t falling. You see them, don’t you?”
“Ya, I see the snowflakes.”
I don’t understand what they are doing. How are they not falling? What’s holding them there, suspended in the fog? There is snow everywhere, but the flakes this morning aren’t falling. I think they are waiting to be noticed.”
“What’s this have to do with Leukemia?”
“It’s just there. Accumulating. Suspended in the fog. Causing things. Changing things…and sometimes I notice it.”
“Oh, yeah, I get what you mean now,” she whispers.
But I continue as though I didn’t hear her understand, “Sometimes it feels like it’s just hanging there in front of me, waiting to be noticed.”
“The Leukemia, it’s waiting? Waiting to be noticed?”
“I don’t know. The Leukemia. The treatment. The whole process. Its February and its freezing and there is snow everywhere… I am just wondering how this became my life.”
“I don’t know how this became my life either.”
“Snow in February… most days it feels so normal. But then I look out one morning and the snowflakes are just hanging there. They aren’t falling, and I have this moment…I don’t know…”
“…where you wonder if the Leukemia was inevitable?”
“Exactly…. back in July, was there bound to be snowflakes this February.”