Abigail on the Classics

I apologize for my tardiness. I am not one to take an appointment lightly. You can be sure I am late because there was nothing I could do about it.

I have also never been one to pretend something is true when it isn't nor have I been the kind of person to suppose everything will turn out fine when it is quite obvious it won't.

What is "fine" anyway? We say something is fine when the thing in question is as it should be, when nothing about it is amiss, when it's the way it was before anyone wondered if something might be wrong with it.

I am not exactly fine. Something is amiss, in fact.

I have been diagnosed with cancer. Ovarian. It can happen to old women like me who've never had children. My little nests of eggs have exacted a kind of justice for having been kept from performing their sacred duty. It's not that I didn't want children. I did. But the only man I was married to did not. After he left me, I was too old and too single to consider waltzing into motherhood on my own. Besides, I had Graham, right?

The girls do not know. I haven't even told Esperanza, even though she has taken me to my doctors' appointments of late. They all suspect something. I can see it in their eyes.

I don't plan on keeping anyone in the dark. I shall tell them soon. After I have a chance to decide what I want to do.

And amazingly enough I do have some choices.

Isn't that just fine?