Unwelcome Gifts

There stood my mother, body whole and new. Her surgeries reversed, the cancer gone. Her arms were wide awaiting my embrace. Her smile a far off memory to me but there it was like it was never lost. Suspiciously approaching her, I stared. Afraid my eyes distorted what I saw. Her smile was like the one when I was eight when we got icecream or played at the park.

She beamed and held her arms out for a hug. I was afraid to touch her lest I learn this sick illusion might really be true. Her smile reminded me of childhood before a tumor tore the family up. How was she looking healthy now without the scalpel scars that etched her skin and mind. So terrified to lose her once again, all I could do was stand and quiver there. She called my name and beckoned me to come. I shook my head and craved the sadder times. When cancer had been cut out of her chest.

The well-fought war with sickness had been won. But now it seemed it hadn't happened yet.