Sage Envy

It is supposed to rain today and I have sage envy. As I was driving home from my walk around Town Lake this morning I couldn’t help but notice that my entire neighborhood was afire with the most beautiful sage blossoms I have ever seen. Flowers in every hue of purple. Lots of them. Sage is my very favorite plant. I love when it bursts into bright bloom and unexpected beauty jumps out of nowhere. Shortly BC, I planted a sage plant in my front flower bed. Then the OC happened. Like so many areas of my life, the sage plant was neglected and left to flourish on its own. As I turned the corner onto my street this morning, I couldn’t wait to see the pretty purple flowers in my own garden. But there were no blooms. Just weedy-looking grayish-green. It’s interesting, really. My little sage plant. It’s easily four times taller than it was when I planted it in the months right BC. Its roots have taken solid hold in the ground and it has been strong enough to withstand a summer of stifling heat. But no blooms. All of my neighbors’ plants have blooms. My life with the OC feels like that. Since that horrible day in July, my life has been an exercise in survival. Period. That has been the very hardest thing. For just about three years, my friends have been planning trips, embarking on life-altering self-improvement plans, online dating, getting new jobs, changing their hairstyles, taking risks, having adventures … the list goes on and on. Mostly I have been waiting. Waiting to bloom. I don’t have words to describe what it feels like to watch life passing you by and wanting to jump head-first into the current but you can’t because you have to take care of this thing called the “C”. You have to have treatment. You have to be sick. You have to be bald. You have to learn to live with the side-effects of the treatment. You have to be afraid, brave, positive, strong … Wash. Rinse. Repeat. That many times through the Spin Cycle takes it toll. And there is always that feeling your real life has to wait until your life with the “C” is over. So much treading water that eventually you feel like you have forgotten how to swim. All of the things that make life flashy on the outside cease to exist. Those flashy things are what makes life fun and exciting and full of hope. But just like the sage plant that has endured what must be one hundred days of consecutive 100+ degree heat, my roots have become stronger. I’m not very glimmery on the outside these days but the things that don’t show so much are taking root. Strength. Courage. Empathy. There are some weeds growing in that flower bed, too … self-pity most of all. I am working hard to yank those out. Now I just need to figure out how to get my bloom on.

This entry is for Chris B. I think he’ll get it. Forgetting to bloom is another “fun” thing I wish I didn’t know about Cancer.