Uneven Ground

Spent a lovely afternoon with my mother and boy (and baby) in a port city yesterday, eating good food, walking through inspiringly beautiful gardens, and throwing rocks and crabapples into the water from the piers. Today, went on a train ride with my father and the boy (and baby) in another city, then, again, walked for hours beside the water, throwing rocks into the waves, testing tart apples on trees that still grow beside the water, and then spending a half hour closing the circle on a horseshoe-shaped miniature stone wall we came upon beside the water, all three of us lazily adding ocean-smooth rocks as we sat, walked, talked there.

Midwife came for our monthly home visit this week, spoke of a client with an 8-month-old and another young child. The woman has just found out that she has leukemia, and is now hooked up to chemotherapy much of the time. She has been in my thoughts since my midwife mentioned her, the seeming injustice of our uneven situations. She with question as to whether her body will pull through this illness, while I spend such magical times with my parents and my child, days full of beauty, perfect companionship, delight, the lightness of trusting that my life can continue on for decades.