Pancakes

I'm sitting at the Landfall, our go-to breakfast place in Port Townsend. They do yummy Eggs Benedict and excellent scrambles, but we come for the pancakes -- thin as crepes, big as dinner plates, and with super-crispy, lacy edges. We always head for one of the corner booths near the kitchen where the view out the window is of boats, water, islands, mountains and sky. We've been coming here ever since we moved to town, dawdling over late, mid-week breakfasts and endless cups of coffee as the lunch customers mosey in. Geo is too unwell for hanging out at the Landfall these days. I'm here by myself today and I'm practicing being alone.

Months ago, in the week before he started the radiation treatments, we talked about my potential widowhood. "I want you," said Geo, "to live well, to be grateful every day and to know peace of mind, just like you would want for me if the tumor was in the other nose." It's true. It's exactly what I would demand of him. It's what we've sought with each other from the very first day.

Six weeks of daily radiation to his nose in October and November and now there's another tumor growing in the radiation field. Tomorrow we go into Seattle to discuss with the surgeon last week's biopsy and to schedule Geo for surgery. The surgeon and the oncologists all say the next step is surgery. Tomorrow, we find how much of his nose they're cutting off and when it'll be. Soon, I hope, as the pain gets worse for him every day. Whatever comes, we've on the ride together. Whatever comes, we know that our last goodbye will arrive much too soon.

For today, I am practicing living an enjoyable, fulfilling life. I am practing having peace of mind at the Landfall. There's something I can't name that I need to learn and I need to learn it pronto. If I can make it through pancakes without falling apart, I will take it as a sign that I will make it through tomorrow and all of the tomorrows, whatever they are, for both our sakes.

I focus on the pancake, watch the knife cut off a bite, feel my arm bring the forkful to my mouth, taste the sweet syrup, hear the crisp, delicate edges of the Landfall pancake shatter between my molars. I practice peace of mind with this pancake, and for now it's okay, I suppose, the practice of standing this close to the abyss.

I call the waitress over and pay the bill. As soon as the to-go order is ready, I will race home to Geo, who is, thankfully, not too unwell to eat the Landfall's miraculous, delicious pancakes. They will still be warm and the edges will still be crispy when I hand him his plate.