We’re in the pediatric cancer unit.
Liquid chemo dropping through
the snake-like tube pressed
into your chest,
Leading to your heart, destroying
all the cancer cells in your
puffed swollen body.
But it’s Mardi Gras!
Your dad comes into the
hospital room carrying
a loaded box full
of hope.
Of normalcy.
We put on the beads.
We play the zydeco music.
We devour the purple green gold
king cake with the hidden baby inside.
We help you out of the bed, IV pole
still attached to the tube in your chest.
Your little sister reaches for your hands.
The music louder.
The sounds of accordion,
singing, rhythms thumping.
You move together.
Swaying
Smiling
Dancing
Laughing.
I’m dancing in reverie with your father.
The nurses come in,
Clapping and laughing
with us.
It is a dance of
the exquisite
Normal;
nearly lost
in our lives,
that cancer cannot
take away from us.
Hope always
moves and grooves
to the dance of life.
So
Dance!
Life!
Dance!
Lisa Molina is a writer/educator in Austin, Texas. She taught high school English and theatre, was Associate Publisher of Austin Family Magazine, and works with students with special needs. Her writing can be found in numerous journals, including Beyond Words Magazine, Trouvaille Review, Neologism Poetry, and The Ekphrastic Review. She tweets @lisabmolina1