So, I’m standing in the shower today, and found an odd little blemish on my skin. With Scott going through cancer, as well as his ex wife, I say to myself, Self… the odds of you getting cancer right now also are just not that good. They can’t be.

Then I thought… so, what if it was?

My youngest daughter is seventeen… so close to being an adult we could spit on it if we wanted to. While I’m not unhappy with my life at all, I don’t really need to be here any more.

I have no fear of dying. I can’t even seem to scrounge some up if I try. I never had fear of dying before I had children, either… it was only once they were born that I was afraid to leave them alone if something happened. Now that they are all but grown, I’ve realized that, while I may be all good with staying to see weddings, and grandbabies, and all of that, I’m okay with being done, also.

This sounds like I don’t love life, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I adore, cherish, embrace, revel and wallow in life, and the pleasures and experiences that life brings. I just don’t mind death, that’s all.

Which… by the way… I’m not sure is such a good mindset for someone who has cancer. Not that I do, or think my little blemish is cancer, but… how can I convince Scott to fight the good fight when I think that a trip to the Summerland sounds fine and dandy for me.

I pretty much unscruplously use his daughter for that. If my kids were still only eleven, I tell myself, then I too would fight with everything I had to stay here this go ’round. So, I try to convince him he needs to do that.

I think he fights… a little anyway.

But I don’t think he believes in the Summerland, and do-overs. I don’t think he believes in anything… just life, then death.

I see God and Goddess in everything, and I think he sees God or Goddess in nothing.

Maybe that is the ticket, then. If he thinks this is all he ever gets, then he should fight to live it as long, and as well, as possible.

Hmm.