what we talk about when we talk about the weather
as above, so below
total eclipse.
You will be changed by love. This is what you came for. It will shapeshift in front of you, and you will shapeshift in front of everyone. You will be changed by love and how it takes you into places–beautiful and disastrous places. You will be changed by time and by loss. How you will be changed by loss.
You will hold Rafi in your arms, as close as you can, wanting to bring her back into your body. After a 48-hour labor and emergency c-section, and then a life-saving blood transfusion, you will be changed; you will kiss her on her cheek each time you raise her to your chest at all hours of the night. But nothing else matters. You will make it all work.
You won’t even know all the ways in which you have changed until you do, and it’s not just one change but a series of them that converge to remake your heart and the capacity you have for love.
Cancer will change you. It’s true. You don’t have it in your body, but your entire life does. And this changes you. You will care much less about so many things to make room for what takes over and needs you most. You become the size of a mountain. You’re the wildflowers, and you’re the loose rock that you must beware of slipping onto. You are the stillness. You are the atmospheric roar of an airplane. You’re in the sky and also need special equipment to land on the ground. Being on the ground takes a lot of work for you. Sometimes, you are better in the sky.
You will be changed by sunrises spreading across the yard, turning everything pink, and you will be changed by the meals brought to your doorstep. No need for chit-chat or pleasantries; you won’t need to do that for a while. And then the world will invite you in again and you will have to manage the exchanges in which you entangle yourself.
You will be changed by the size of Luna’s hand in yours. How it’s bigger than it’s ever been but still small enough for you to carry like it’s made of sand. So carefully, you don’t want to lose even one grain.
You will be changed by the word “no,” your greatest ally. You will be changed by boundaries and yoga and by language–how they gather around your heart, waiting for an echo.
You will be changed by honesty and matcha lattes. You will be changed by whales and hummingbirds and owls–you never have to choose just one. They are all your messengers. All of them offer medicine.
You will be changed by the hematology waiting room. It is full of strangers, but also it doesn’t feel that way. You will cry into your mask because the world is such a stunning and horrible place.
You will be changed by your body changing at the same time Rafi’s body is changing. You will be changed, and you will look like you’ve been changed. You’ll see it in photos, and it will surprise you.
You will be changed by the great tides that come to take you into big dark waters and then return you, but different.
You will be changed, and you will try and do it like the caterpillars do, but you will realize that nature makes miracles look simple. Nothing is simple. Maybe things masquerade as simple when we just do them without thinking; maybe it’s the thinking that complicates everything.
You will be changed by asking your heart instead of your mind about what to do next. The Lakota people say the longest journey a man takes is from his head to his heart, and you can see why. Step by step, even if it takes your entire life.
You will be changed by where change takes you. You’ll learn to see into places that didn’t exist before, and over time, you will become fluent in the unknown. And over more time, the language of the unknown will become your native tongue.