two stages of infancy.

Sitting in the den of my parent's home where I'd been so many times before, I was experiencing something any loving child hopes to never see: a crippled, shadow of the mother he once knew hobble across the room. That's exactly what I was witnessing, though. My dear mother, now bent and broken from the effects of bone cancer, uses every ounce of energy in her little body to simply stand up and walk across the room to go to the bathroom for a moment. The rest of her day is spent in a chair because she lacks the energy to do anything else. I think I'll go buy one of those t-shirts that says "cancer sucks."

Sitting in the den of my parent's home where I'd sat so many times before, I was experiencing something any loving mother hopes to see: a healthy, happy baby girl walking for the very first time. She was toddling along the same path her grandmother had shuffled a short time before; determined to reach her destination of the back door where she could look out and see the cat relaxing on the pool deck. I counted in my head as I was frozen watching this little everyday miracle take place in front of me... 15 steps, 18... then her two tiny hands hit the glass of the door where she exclaimed "CAT!"

I was as proud to see my Mama walk across the room without assistance as I was my daughter. What a strange feeling it is to have the same physical act bring about so very different emotions; heartbreak in one case, excitement and pride in another.