keeper of the flame . . .

sometimes, low is so far down and murky, kidlet fears she won't remember who she was.  she cannot see the light that is her soul.  that flicker of bright that breaks forth in glee.  the remarkable timing that makes her sense of humor flow and bubble.  the busyness of her brain that electrifies her fingers to create the imaginable from the imaginary. the resolute flint that charges her lightness and spews forth ideas and creativity.

the child who runs free is still there under the pain and miasma. yesterday at the therapist it was hard for her to remember her old self.  she sobbed.  the tears flew.

but i remember.  i remember she who is quick to laugh.  quick to light up the world around her.  quick to care about those she loves.  i remember the soul that does no harm.  that would burst forth with imagination.  she who held together with the 9TS and i through all the miles it took for melanoma to win. i remember the tenacity. the strength. the guts.

and we, who remember and love her so, are charged as keepers of the flame until she is strong enough to keep herself afloat.  strong enough to say, i have been sick but i am back.  because she will be.  back.  and strong.  but until then, we will keep her safe.  we, the keepers of the flame.