The sun shines outside my bedroom window, the closed slats in the window blind stop the sunshine from entering the room. Even though the blind impedes the sun from lighting up the room, occasionally a tenacious ray twists through the slats, dashes across my bed and then disappear. It is almost comical seeing the ray heading my direction. It reminds me how I disregard closed-doors. Unlocked doors are there for me to open them and peek inside.
I have always been intensely curious about everything. I needed to know what I saw, what something was and how it got that way. I enjoyed experimenting with food by combining ingredients that usually were thought to not go together. Once I realized that anything is possible, I started developing recipes that attracted much interest in my clients. I scoured the marketplace for unique party decor or any product that could set one party in front of all the rest.
I entered college in my late forties and academia strongly intimidated me. I quickly changed how I felt as I realized that education brings a treasure trove of technique and thought of the mind.. I became the little boy in a candy shop, overwhelmed yet determined to take extra courses just so that I could be aware. Later in graduate school I started making art and sought out techniques, that when combined in an unorthodox manner, made my work distinctive; it was art that caught the eye and the emotions of the viewer.
During this last year my backyard became the outer limits of my life. I reached a point that not much interested me and I pulled back into my own small world, one of limited contact and one that did not include creative thought. Looking back I wonder if I was preparing myself to live within a shadow of ‘Cancer”. Even if everything turns out well I will always be reminded that I have had a lobectomy. Usually, I am like the window in my room, closed from sharing everything about me, yet I know there will always be some form of a tenacious little sunray that will pierce my surface and I will be confronted with questions.
Maybe, I just knew. I always thought something was wrong. Now I know and in my retreat I lessen the chance that a little sunray will emerge and ask questions.