She took me to the lake to see the swans last of the day's outings. Years since we had hung out together, just the two of us. Probably before my brother and sister were born. Targeted chemo has put her cancer on halt for the time being. This time last year the doctors had written her off, now she might possibly be able to have another marrow bone transplant. She thinks she isn't strong enough, but she is living the life she has, however long that may be.
Weak, older than her age she seems, and my heart breaks to see it even though she's so much better than she was this time last year. Breaks when I hear her speak of learning to walk again after the cancer had beaten her down to five stone and she had no strength. How she had forced herself to walk bit by bit to gain strength again. How she had asked the neighbours to take the parking brake off for her because she was too weak to do it herself but just had to go out and drive round the corner to know there was still a world beyond the shrunken scope that had become her limit for so long.
Views like this have such meaning. My heart broke for her, then it mended. We didn't stay long, I didn't want her to get too tired or catch cold. But for those moments we were together and shared the same life force as the swans and the sunset. And that's all we needed to be okay today.