By the time you read this, I will be back in the car, heading south. If all goes as planned (which rarely happens), I will cross the Florida state line before dark. I will be sneezing and coughing along the way since I am taking a nasty cold home with me.
I don’t care about the miserable cold, though. I cherish every single day of the wonderful, happy week in Indiana spent with lots of people I love so dearly. Went to lunch with Kenny Norman and Fred Shonk. Stopped by The Southsider Voice to gather a few very necessary hugs and teared up when I saw the awesome addition for breast cancer awareness in the Oct. 8 issue. To all of you who participated in that effort, thank you so very much. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. And every 13 minutes a woman loses her life to breast cancer. Your support for research gives mothers, daughters, aunts, sisters and wives a brighter future.
Since my bout with breast cancer took nearly a year of my life, my visit was delayed. I physically could not make the trip north to see lots of Hoosiers I love, especially my son. I probably don’t need to tell you that when I arrived in Indiana and put my arms around my only child, I did not want to let go. It was the sweetest feeling I’ve had in such a long time, just to bury my face in my boy’s shoulder. I thought my heart might explode from sheer joy.
But that wasn’t the only time I had a little snot festival this week.
On another day I visited a family member who now resides in a memory care facility. I didn’t see his smile, didn’t get a hug. He barely opened his eyes. That was another time when my face was wet.
Now that I think about it, I did a lot of crying this week.
But that’s not unusual.
I’m definitely a crier from way back. I am a seasoned snotter. That’s right. I bawl when I’m happy, sad, afraid, lost, mad.
Most of the time I wear my feelings right on the edge of my eyelashes. No matter what emotion I feel, it drips down my cheeks.
A year away from Indiana, a year containing three surgeries in five months and a blur of weekly doctor visits ... 1,200 miles away from my child and friends, well all of it has perched on my heart. Over and over again, I have been reminded all week about how precious time is and how elusive it is, too.
That moment that I buried my face in my son’s shoulder, all of those thoughts rushed right down my face. Thank God for healing. And thank goodness for time.
A former Southsider and an award-winning journalist and humor writer, Sherri Coner resides in southwest Florida. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com. She also speaks to women’s groups.
I don’t care about the miserable cold, though. I cherish every single day of the wonderful, happy week in Indiana spent with lots of people I love so dearly. Went to lunch with Kenny Norman and Fred Shonk. Stopped by The Southsider Voice to gather a few very necessary hugs and teared up when I saw the awesome addition for breast cancer awareness in the Oct. 8 issue. To all of you who participated in that effort, thank you so very much. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. And every 13 minutes a woman loses her life to breast cancer. Your support for research gives mothers, daughters, aunts, sisters and wives a brighter future.
Since my bout with breast cancer took nearly a year of my life, my visit was delayed. I physically could not make the trip north to see lots of Hoosiers I love, especially my son. I probably don’t need to tell you that when I arrived in Indiana and put my arms around my only child, I did not want to let go. It was the sweetest feeling I’ve had in such a long time, just to bury my face in my boy’s shoulder. I thought my heart might explode from sheer joy.
But that wasn’t the only time I had a little snot festival this week.
On another day I visited a family member who now resides in a memory care facility. I didn’t see his smile, didn’t get a hug. He barely opened his eyes. That was another time when my face was wet.
Now that I think about it, I did a lot of crying this week.
But that’s not unusual.
I’m definitely a crier from way back. I am a seasoned snotter. That’s right. I bawl when I’m happy, sad, afraid, lost, mad.
Most of the time I wear my feelings right on the edge of my eyelashes. No matter what emotion I feel, it drips down my cheeks.
A year away from Indiana, a year containing three surgeries in five months and a blur of weekly doctor visits ... 1,200 miles away from my child and friends, well all of it has perched on my heart. Over and over again, I have been reminded all week about how precious time is and how elusive it is, too.
That moment that I buried my face in my son’s shoulder, all of those thoughts rushed right down my face. Thank God for healing. And thank goodness for time.
A former Southsider and an award-winning journalist and humor writer, Sherri Coner resides in southwest Florida. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com. She also speaks to women’s groups.
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