Treatment Two

There is distant music, just out of earshot, that's been thrumming on the wind since the grandfather clock in the dining room gave over its last happy Saturday second into a more somber Sunday morning. It is now the week of Vicky's next treatment, and that carries with it hope and not a little melancholy.

She has been so bright and active, starting innumerable projects last week, shiny and thankful and so present and loving to everyone she sees. Yet she knows what's next, what needs to be done. There is something deeply heroic about the clear-eyed way she faces this. There is a determined set to her shoulders and steel in her step that awakens the most tender feelings. It's not just a visit to the clinic: it is a primal, important, vast part of life, and I find myself catching my breath to see the grace she carries to it.