The days run together, steadily. Life in April, a year after our cross country move, looked like late snow yielding to a slow-building spring. It looked like new life and marathon training. It was hikes and home, being amused by our animals. I recognized, particularly, highs at work (I'm looking at you, Superhero Day). We've made friends- a new community here in Connecticut- whose littles often fill the frame of my camera. I'm grateful for the way relocating expanded our life.
Looking back over these thirty photographs, months later, makes me pause. It reminds me, as this project so often does, to pay attention, to breathe deep, to savor the good stuff. I hope catching a few glimpses into my April has the same effect on you.
April 1: An 8-mile hike on Easter Sunday with a side of accidental twinning with my number one sidekick.
April 2: At this point the shine of snow days had long since worn off, but looking at the photo now I think it's hard to believe this is a median between the main hospital building and my office.
April 3: Friend? Foe? Neither? Both? Frenemies for life.
April 4: View from the deck, unfocused for an unfocused day.
April 5: Sights of spring.
April 6: An insomnia-induced double exposure, pouring over Pete Souza's photographs of Obama's presidency.
April 7: Photo session dance parties forever.
April 8: Wherein winter coats were still required, and Ty allowed his true colors about the matter show.
April 9: Marathon. Training. Peak mileage week.
April 10: All things new.
April 11: Mornings, on repeat.
April 12: Dinner prep since returning to a more traditional 9-5 has become a ritual I anticipate. I'm not the best cook, but I enjoy the rhythm.
April 13: Another weekend, another hike, and him- this time in shirt sleeves.
April 14: Long running. It's August now, and my last 20-miler was the marathon in May, and looking at this I'm anticipating getting back to training this fall.
April 15: This was the 2-year anniversary of completing treatment. Two years since I rang the bell... It feels like a whole different life ago since that day. My friends and family showed up with cupcakes and FU balloons, and we poured champagne in the Texas Oncology lobby. Tired, Ty and I went home, relieved to be closing a chapter.
I'm not sure we would have ever moved cross country were it not for breast cancer invading our life. I am sure I would not have discovered a desire to use my skill set to tell better stories in a hospital setting. Getting sick changed my family's trajectory for sure. It feels like only yesterday and also a thousand years ago that the radiologist called, apologetic but with a hopeful "this is early." I can remember the way my voice caught when I called Ty and asked him to come home from work. Cancer is not a word you want in your self-describing adjectives vocabulary. But it happened.
It happened, but it doesn't define me or us. It happened, and two years later I still cry thinking about it, equal parts relief and grief and hope. It feels like something to celebrate, though, the growing gap between then and now.
April 16: Cold day + dirty dog. She doesn't love a shower.
April 17: Always the helper.
April 18: And mornings again.
April 19: Albert. As himself.
April 20: My girl is getting old, and her soulful eyes only get more so with age.
April 21: No place I'd rather be.
April 22: Running all the miles.
April 23: I kept anticipating the return of the yellow flowers as spring arrived, and then one day, there they were.
April 24: He's the better cook.
April 25: Breakfast anticipation.
April 26: My friend Monique's girls helped me with a superhero shoot for a work project. They're my buddies.
April 27: Superhero Day at work, and my first fresh 48 client in Connecticut teamed up with one of our docs.
April 28: And then full force spring evenings turned downright magical.
April 29: Extended family sessions with great-grandmas for the win.
April 30: Dinner shenanigans with my original Connecticut peeps.