Melanoma, Afghanistan and Hands

I have no one to check and see if that mole on my back is growing or becoming discolored with jagged margins. These are things I think about when I am alone.

Germany deployed to Afghanistan this week. I sent him a message telling him that I would always love him and to take care. I know that most likely, I will never hear from him again - but that he will live through it - or maybe not. I think about his hands - sitting outside at a cafe in Nurnberg - him holding my hand and saying goodbye. I knew he was saying it - perhaps for my own good - perhaps because he was too scared to take a chance. There would only be a few more exchanges after that morning and I would keep holding on while he had already let me go. I symbolically moved the Nurnberg refrigerator magnet from the front - where I could see it easily - to the side of the fridge where I would only see it while cooking - which I rarely do. Normally when I cook - it is for someone else. And when that occurs again - there will be someone there to soften the blow of the hole that was left in my heart in his absence. He wants to be in Afghanistan - wants to see combat - and perhaps this is a person with whom I have nothing in common - without the context of our youth - I don't think I could understand anyone who wants to put themselves in harm's way - and yet at the same time - I understand only too keenly. I am someone that walks into crosswalks without barely looking - daring cars to hit me - wondering what the impact would feel like. And yet - with my knowledge of pharmaceuticals - know exactly how to end things in my sleep. But the cats and my friend connections keep me alive.

While walking to the market today - I thought of my mom's hands. I could almost feel her hand in mine - remember what her nails looked like - what color polish would be on her fingernails - the fungus that was growing on the underside of one of her nails - the one that transferred to the back of my head and makes me itch from time to time. I know I could get an anti-fungal to make it go away and yet in some sort of sick way it makes me think that I still have part of her with me. The stuff about holding her in my heart doesn't seem to work anymore - but having her in my head has always been a constant.

Germany came right on the heels of losing my mom and my relationship with C and then I lost him too. I have managed to fill my entire calendar with times that make me ache.