The flavor of my life became Artificial Watermelon in 2010, when I was given a year to live because I knew that wasn’t the full time to LIVE.
No doctor could tell me how long I had to be well or how well I would feel on any given treatment, so each day could be my last active one. Artificial Watermelon is a flavor so amplified that it doesn’t resemble watermelon flavoring at all, but is its own intense deliciousness. It’s similar to the blue flavor of Gatorade, Jell-O, and Slurpees in that it’s a bizarre flavor that doesn’t resemble anything from God’s green earth.
“Awareness” is a well known form of meditation now, but at that time I just knew that all of my senses were acutely heightened. I would close my eyes while lying in the grass in the park and pick out each bird call, car going by, or kid playing. Since it was summer in Vegas, I would lie next to the pool and feel each ray of the sun’s intensity on my skin and each bead of sweat roll down the back of my knee. While I exercised I could feel each muscle working independently yet together to make a movement and I could feel each breath going through my lungs.
Each day went on like this, one after another. But the heightened senses really aren’t sustainable and turned out to be just exhausting. Day after day, month after month, year after year, a healing was slowly revealed.
The most common phrase I heard was the shocked, “No, this can’t be! Kids just can’t grow up without their mothers.” I heard it so much that I began to panic. The desperation to spend every moment with my kids making an amazing memory out of every mundane task became creepy, unnatural and a little inappropriate as they became pre-teens and teenagers. There is a normal switch when teens want their independence, but I wasn’t ready. Not being welcomed into every aspect of their lives was a pain that went right to my soul. My Artificial Watermelon life has turned into real watermelon flavoring, sweet but with barely any flavor. As desperately and frantically as I had held on to every moment, time went on anyway. Looking back at these last 7 years takes my breath away. How could it have passed while I was holding on so tightly?
This year our district changed the school calendar and my boys went back to school the second week of August; two weeks early. The little girl in me is crying that summer shortened so much that I have been robbed. Time moved faster in those two weeks, closing out another summer too early. It just doesn’t feel like this summer can be over.
When I was growing up in New England, I had my own kind of calendar to mark down the time until school started again. In August we would go to bed when it was stifling hot, throwing the sheets to the end of the bed, but would wake up to a chill in the air. The forsythia bush in front of the house had beautiful fluffy white flowers in the summer that turned pink when it was time to go back to school, then brown when the school routine became commonplace. I would look forward to the tri-county fair every year on Labor Day weekend, but with a tinge of sadness that school would be starting on Tuesday and another summer would be over. That is another year away from childhood.
I see now that I have been trying to manipulate time. We foster kittens from when they are just over a pound until they are two pounds. Instead of using a scale I can tell when they are ready by how much they climb, how much less they need to sleep, as well as how big their bellies are getting. The whole family has fallen in love with one of the foster kittens we have now, but as much as I love Nikko, I really don’t want to keep him. I like sending the older kittens to be adopted into loving forever homes and getting more baby kittens to love on. I don’t think I want to see Nikko grow up into a beautiful, mature cat. I don’t want to see more time pass.
It is always a wistful, nostalgic sadness that I have at the end of every summer. The fall always brings new routines, new adventures and new starts. Another “year” is happening, with our new school shoes on.
I am learning to let go of the intenseness of the artificial watermelon way of life. The kids are growing, time is moving on. Now I taste the passing of time as the sweetest of flavors. The ripest watermelons are always at the end of summer, and they are oh, so sweet!