Sometimes I don’t write because I simply don’t want to feel that deeply that day. I just want to walk around my neighborhood and watch the sun set with strangers. I want to surf and pretend it’s really important that I get good waves and ride them with proper form. I want to act like what I make for dinner is a significant decision. I want to take artsy pictures of palm trees and share them on the internet.
I ran into Roberta this morning on her way home from surfing. She asked how we were doing and I said “Good!” because in most ways, Sprout and Scott and I are. I’m enjoying skateboarding. I redecorated our bedroom. The surf in February was really fun and I’m back to riding the small board I used to ride before Sprout. I’m starting to wonder if Sprout is an exceptionally good baby. She sleeps all night and takes two long naps; she says Momma and Dada and waves and claps and signs “more”; she will eat almost anything (not yogurt and not butternut squash). She had Thai food the other night and on Friday she ate mahi mahi and curry covered cauliflower like she’d been eating it her whole life. My mom and dad bragged to Kevin about it the next day. I was glad I was within earshot so I could stand there feeling proud; like I was doing something right. But, really, I know I probably deserve almost no credit for Sprout being cool; if anything, it’s something small like 20% .
Maddie was in the hospital the last two nights and will be again tonight. She had low potassium and was dehydrated. She might have the flu. Danielle said Monday, when she was at my parent’s house to watch The Bachelor, that Maddie was sad, even though Tuesday, when I FaceTimed her, she was taking a bath and laughing with Sprout about bubbles. The chemo is terrible. The doctor said her body will be ten years older by the time she’s done. It makes things taste like metal. It makes her eyes twitch. She can’t touch or eat anything cold. She can’t eat raw fruit and vegetables. Is it like being in a concentration camp gas chamber with cable? Maybe. I hope I never know. I wish Maddie couldn’t answer that question.
All of this is to say that until Maddie is good, I’m not good. She is part of me.