My Greatest Fear
Wine swirled around the stemless glass while I sat cross-legged on the bend in the kitchen counter. We shuffled through the newly-dating tango of knocking through topics on the q&a buffet. You can be anyone - who are you? Mountains or coast? What keeps you awake a night?
My eyes swelled with hot, steamy tears as I prayed measured breaths would keep them from falling down my flushed cheeks.
In my 31 years I’d never said it out loud, though it remained a constant undertone of my existence.
"That I’ll finally be a mom and I’ll get cancer like my dad.”
That was my truth.
My single greatest fear in all that is and was heaven and earth.
I swept the tears away as his lips found their way to my forehead.
“That’s his story, not yours,” he said.
“You’re proactive and you know your family history.”
“You’re going to be fine.”
A tear slid down my flushed cheek as he held her near my face.
She was born only six hours after I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
He was right. I am going to be fine.
