The Little Things Molly Brothers

As I'm sitting criss-cross on my bed, my cats curl up beside me, purring quietly. There's music playing in the background softly, the melodious kind that floats through the air. It's so calming that eventually I don't realize there's music playing at all. My door is closed and the only sound aside from my music is the rumbling of the air conditioning unit outside of my window. For the most part my room is picked up; the only item out of place is a pair of sneakers in the middle of the floor that I had thrown off as soon as I returned home. For the first time since my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, I’m able to reflect on the positive rather than the negative--what to glean from the experience, what lessons to carry on with me.

I'm grateful for a clear mind; no lingering fear penetrates the calm, nor do unfinished responsibilities worry me. Thoughts of whether my mom would make it through this recent chemo treatment don’t interrupt the full breath in. My mental checklist, “dishes-geometry-vacuum-cookdinner-readchapter15-englishessay-shower-checkonmom-sleep”, doesn't repeat itself in my head in monotonous rhythm as my lungs deflate and the breath escapes into the room. Nothing. The serenity feels...