She grabbed my hand as I began my slow ascent up our stairway. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. She joined me, mirroring my steps, happy to be by my side.
“Mommy, I won’t pull hard on you or jump on you while we go up the stay-ahs because you have the can-cah (cancer).”
Laughing, I look down at her relishing her sparkling smile under messy red curls.
“You know, Bella-girl, Mommy doesn’t have cancer any more.”
She lets go of my hand to cover her mouth with both of hers, blue fingernail polish glistening, smile filling her face, “I for-GOT! I’m so happy you don’t have the can-cah!”
I’d almost finished my slow shuffle to the upstairs and she says, “Mommy? Were we evah poo-wah (poor)?”
I thought about the pile of bills sitting by my computer, the phone calls I need to make to the hospital, the tears I had cried that very morning over our finances, the sacrifices we’ve made through our life together, and sat down on the top step next to my sweet girl.
“No, honey. We’ve never been poor. Mommy and Daddy had some really tough times when we first got married, and we’ve given up a lot of things the world would think is important, but God has always taken care of us. We have always had a roof over our head, food on our table, clothes on our body, friends and family who love us. We’ve never been poor.”
She clapped her hands and leaned her head against my arm, “Oh, Mothah (she always calls me Mother when she’s overwhelmed with joy) I’m so glad we’re rich!”
Such perspective. We are very rich, Bella-girl. So very rich.
You know something, Diana? We are rich. We have sixteen years to our credit, and we both have wonderful imaginations. We should be as happy as queens. Look at that [setting sun]. You couldn’t enjoy its loveliness more if you had ropes of diamonds. (~from my other favorite redhead, Anne of Green Gables)
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