I waited, sitting still for the few minutes that she was inside. I expected to wait longer, but she came out fairly quickly.
"You're done?" She smiled. Nodded. Tears filled her eyes, brimming at the surface. "That was quick! That's amazing. I can't believe how fast it was." More nods. I hugged her. "It's okay," I whispered.
"I know," she whispered back.
I held onto her, gently. She was fragile, yet strong. Stronger than I'd ever seen her. "You're amazing," I told her. She laughed softly.
"What'd you think of my mask?" she asked me, as we walked to the door. My turn to smile, a slight laugh.
"It's you, alright ..."
"I asked them if I could keep it when I'm done."
"What'd they say?" She shrugged. "Ah, you don't really need that. When you're done you'll be DONE. No mask to remind you. You'll know."
"I'll always know." She lifted her hand up to her neck. Touched it gently.
"Does it hurt?" She shook her head. "You sure?"
"Not so much. It's easier now." We sighed together. "They gave me lotion." I nodded. She looked so tired.
"Let's go home," I instructed. Silently we walked through the doors into the beautiful sunshine.
Cancer is a beast. But my mom? My mom is absolutely beautiful.
This post is in response to this week's prompt over at The Red Dress Club.