Racing Dragons
On our way up the street, making our way to the ravine trailhead, there was Brenda, stooped over the curb beside the road in front of her house, determinedly shovelling up all the weeds that flourish in the cracks. They're unsightly, and always insist on growing there, necessitating the occasional scraping to eradicate their stubborn presence. And Brenda was doing a bang-up job in the heat of the August sun.
It was nice to see her again. Looking healthy and fit, and determined to persevere with the job at hand. It's rare to see her at home. She's always off gallivanting around, busy both with her travelling-salesman job and her passion, dragon-boat racing with the other 'girls'. She's no girl in the strict sense of the word, but she is a survivor and when they get together part of their camaraderie is calling themselves 'girls', not survivors.
Brenda, when we first knew her about sixteen years ago, was an operating-room nurse, with two young children and a loving husband. Her children are now grown, her daughter living downtown in her own apartment, busy with her job and her friends, her son away at school; Memorial University during the school year. Her husband Paul, though, is still around, even when Brenda isn't.
About ten years ago Brenda was diagnosed with breast cancer. She won that first battle, but it was tough. Two years later the cancer returned, and the struggle the second time was fiercer than the first time around, but she persevered again. When the cancer returned again, we knew from what we'd read that her chances were frighteningly slim. But Brenda is one determined woman and she fought that battle all over again. And won.
Not only determined, but cheerfully determined. All these years later her hair still hasn't grown in as thickly as it had been. But Brenda looks good. She's happy and involved, and overweight. But her kind of overweight is heavily canted on muscular strength, because after her third bout she took up dragon-boat racing with a true vengeance. Completely immersing and involving herself with a coterie of other determined survivors.
She quit her nursing job, and took up an allied, yet completely different type of job. She became a travelling salesperson for a large pharmaceutical company. But she didn't pursue her career locally; rather she does a lot of travelling around the continent, representing her company. When she isn't travelling on business she's travelling with her dragon-boat team. They're really good, winning one competition after another.
They travelled all over Canada and the United States. They went to Singapore, Hong Kong, China, the Continent. Whenever I'd bump into Paul he would let me know just where Brenda was, at the moment, and it was rarely at home. Paul was always good about that; he missed her presence, but knew how important it was for Brenda to live her life to the fullest and he supported her.
When we stood talking in front of her house, she flashed her usual broad smile, said how amazing it's been for her, these years, noted my 'new' (years old now) short hair, asked if I'd had it styled and where. At home, in the bathroom, with the help of two mirrors and a sharp pair of scissors I told her. And I reversed the comment, noting her new blond, very short hair, and she laughed deprecatingly, turning around so we could admire scalp revealed at the top of her head.
Can't even see it, I said reassuringly, and she hooted and commented that's because I'm so short, I can't see the top of her head. Then she launched into a description of her latest itinerary. Off to Australia and New Zealand for a month. Another dragon-boat contest destination. Hey, and this time Paul's going with her! They'll have a ball.
But, she said, it'll be her last race. She's giving it up. Taking up golfing. Lots of fun, she assured us, eyes twinkling.
It was nice to see her again. Looking healthy and fit, and determined to persevere with the job at hand. It's rare to see her at home. She's always off gallivanting around, busy both with her travelling-salesman job and her passion, dragon-boat racing with the other 'girls'. She's no girl in the strict sense of the word, but she is a survivor and when they get together part of their camaraderie is calling themselves 'girls', not survivors.
Brenda, when we first knew her about sixteen years ago, was an operating-room nurse, with two young children and a loving husband. Her children are now grown, her daughter living downtown in her own apartment, busy with her job and her friends, her son away at school; Memorial University during the school year. Her husband Paul, though, is still around, even when Brenda isn't.
About ten years ago Brenda was diagnosed with breast cancer. She won that first battle, but it was tough. Two years later the cancer returned, and the struggle the second time was fiercer than the first time around, but she persevered again. When the cancer returned again, we knew from what we'd read that her chances were frighteningly slim. But Brenda is one determined woman and she fought that battle all over again. And won.
Not only determined, but cheerfully determined. All these years later her hair still hasn't grown in as thickly as it had been. But Brenda looks good. She's happy and involved, and overweight. But her kind of overweight is heavily canted on muscular strength, because after her third bout she took up dragon-boat racing with a true vengeance. Completely immersing and involving herself with a coterie of other determined survivors.
She quit her nursing job, and took up an allied, yet completely different type of job. She became a travelling salesperson for a large pharmaceutical company. But she didn't pursue her career locally; rather she does a lot of travelling around the continent, representing her company. When she isn't travelling on business she's travelling with her dragon-boat team. They're really good, winning one competition after another.
They travelled all over Canada and the United States. They went to Singapore, Hong Kong, China, the Continent. Whenever I'd bump into Paul he would let me know just where Brenda was, at the moment, and it was rarely at home. Paul was always good about that; he missed her presence, but knew how important it was for Brenda to live her life to the fullest and he supported her.
When we stood talking in front of her house, she flashed her usual broad smile, said how amazing it's been for her, these years, noted my 'new' (years old now) short hair, asked if I'd had it styled and where. At home, in the bathroom, with the help of two mirrors and a sharp pair of scissors I told her. And I reversed the comment, noting her new blond, very short hair, and she laughed deprecatingly, turning around so we could admire scalp revealed at the top of her head.
Can't even see it, I said reassuringly, and she hooted and commented that's because I'm so short, I can't see the top of her head. Then she launched into a description of her latest itinerary. Off to Australia and New Zealand for a month. Another dragon-boat contest destination. Hey, and this time Paul's going with her! They'll have a ball.
But, she said, it'll be her last race. She's giving it up. Taking up golfing. Lots of fun, she assured us, eyes twinkling.
Labels: Particularities, Values
posted by Pieface @ 4:27 PM
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