Where are you Christmas?

Where are you Christmas?

You weren’t on the face of the man in the elevator with me this afternoon at the cancer center.  His worry lines were deep and his eyes showed the strain of looking toward the future.

“She’s having her first chemotherapy today.”  “They found it on her pancreas and there’s a couple spots on her liver.”  “It’s a rough day for both or us.”

“She told me, “I’m gonna lose my hair.” “I told her  that’s OK, we’ll find it again.” And he smiled.

“She’s gonna beat this.” It’s just takes some time.” “She’s gotta beat this.”

Ahhh….there you are.


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