26 years cancer free and I’m still over the moon – Daily News

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it this month,” I said to Mr. Moon as he slid into his parking space in front of my garden window.

“Did you think I would forget your special day?” he asked.

“It’s been a big month for you with the whole Harvest Moon, Blood Moon, and Super Moon extravaganza. You caused quite a stir. I thought you were exhausted.”

“All in one night’s work,” he gave me a half-moon smile as I put the kettle on for our tea.

“September is a pretty big month for you too,” he continued.

As he spoke, I imagined the first time we talked about my breast cancer, the night before my mastectomies 26 years ago. I couldn’t sleep and wandered barefoot onto the terrace to write in my diary.

“I’m scared,” I whispered into the warm September night.

“That’s natural,” a soothing voice replied.

“What if this is my last night? Not in this rocker, but on Earth?”

It was dark on the deck. I hadn’t turned on the light. But a crescent-shaped sliver peered through the lemon tree and I realized that I wasn’t just talking to him, but that we were actually having a conversation.

“I talk to the moon,” I scribbled in my journal. “And he answers me.” It occurred to me later that if I hadn’t made it and someone had read the diary, I might have been remembered as the crazy lady who talked to the moon. Actually not a bad legacy.

But he was reassuring and logical and said that I would be fine either way, on Earth or elsewhere. He visited me twice during the ten days I was in the hospital, barely balancing on the thin window ledge outside my room. I suppose it’s possible I imagined it, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve been friends ever since. And I’ve been here with joy ever since. When the time comes for me to be somewhere else, I hope he will visit me there.

Thank you for the 26th anniversary visit, Mr. Moon, and I plan to accept your offer of a trip to the moon one day.

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