Christmastime is hard for me, it’s hard to have a terminal illness. I sit and wonder if this is my last? This type of pressure is daunting, it’s stifling. And when people ask me what I want, it can be difficult to answer. After all, what should I want – shouldn’t I be death cleaning? I actually did death cleaning before it had a name or was a fad. Yep, I knocked that one out of the park. As a matter of fact, I think I have done death cleaning at least twice in the past 7 years. And despite the prep – I keep living? What the hell? You told me I was gonna die and here I am, yes, here I am.
So, on Christmas morning when my three magnificent kids are ripping through gifts, I can’t help but sit back and just appreciate that I get to be here – that’s a helluva gift. You see when you’re 32 and someone tells you, that your expiration date is sooner rather than later – that shit stays with you. And now, 39 is upon me and while I am still here I don’t get to think like a 39-year-old. While my peers are thinking about their kids in college, retirement savings, professional growth and how they will spend their golden years – I never really allowed myself to even think about still being here to see, well, to see this Christmas let alone retirement or any of those milestones.
For the past five years or so, I have had my eyes on these winter boots and every year my hubs has asked what I wanted for Christmas. My response has always been little stuff, stuff that the “house” can use – after all, my time here is temporary and more stuff, it feels like such a colossal waste. But, these boots, oh these boots how I dreamed of them. Could I really justify these pricey boots? Would I ever get to use them? With my knee, that actual doctors have told me isn’t worth fixing (nice huh? how many 39-year-olds hear that??) with my bad joints, with my treatment side effects, would these boots ever see the damn snow? Nope, I simply couldn’t risk spending so much on a pair of boots that may never see any “action”.
Then a crazy thing happened this year. The opportunity of a lifetime was dropped in my lap (that is an entirely different blog post). I climbed Machu Picchu on these legs with this bad knee, with joint damage, with all the things wrong with this body that has been ravaged by almost 8 years of cancer treatment. Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t easy and without my life-altering tribe around me cheering me on, carrying my bag and encouraging me this whole Machu Picchu deal wouldn’t have happened. But, in the midst of it all – a crazy thing happened?? I started to believe that I might be worth it? Yep, I might be worth those damn boots. Maybe there’s a whole bunch of life buried deep within me. (And if not, my middle kiddo is already sharing the same size as me. Ha.)
And on Christmas morning – when I opened up these sweet boots, tears welled up in my eyes. First that I lived long enough to get these damn boots and commit to them seeing a ton of freaking action! Secondly, I was so thankful that my Peruvian tribe entered my life, they influenced this decision in every way, whether they know it or not. And lastly, those tears were for my hubs who believed in me, who believed I would rock these boots, he pushed and pushed until I believed it myself. The man actually drove me to the store to try them on so he could wrap them up for me.
And I am happy to report these boots have already seen snow. They’ve even had a candlelight hike through our local nature preserve. Clearly, these boots were made for walking!!