As a child, I loved rocky beaches. I upturned rock after rock; each one revealing a different family of crabs in a house of pebbles and pools. I was awed that these worlds existed, hidden, until I opened them to the sky. 

I was always careful to put the rock back.

“What happens to my breast?” I asked the surgeon before my mastectomy. “Is it just medical waste?”

“Oh no, we thoroughly dissect it to see what is there,” he replied. “I will call you with the pathology report.” 

He did. It turns out an invasive tumor remained in my breast even after two lumpectomies and six rounds of chemotherapy. It’s gone now. My breast too.

What remains is the space underneath. Another world now open to the sky, forever. 

As I look in the mirror, I’m trying to view myself with wonder. 

What is revealed now? 

4 thoughts on “Crab – V: Underneath

  1. P.S. There were whales feeding in the Columbia again last week, and one washed up on the beach at Ft. Stevens, feeding many.
    On Wednesday a Merlin ended up trapped in our chicken run. We rescued the beautiful Merlin, bright eyed, wings and legs fine, she flew off after gracing us with her magic. She left behind the feathers of an unknown song bird, the same one presumedly she had followed into the run on her hunt.
    The dark and light side by side are not always possible to distinguish one from the other.

    Liked by 1 person

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