Fighting the War in I-Rack

Today was Race for the Cure day here in Minneapolis. I, an official member of Team Emma's Boob Bloggers (celebrating a girlfriend who's been cancer free for a year), enjoyed taking part in the community spirit. All along the 3-mile route we encountered examples of strangers and friends unabashedly supporting one another.

A sucker for community events, I was struck by so many things: a residence where someone had saturated tree limbs with hand-tied pink bows, the church group shaking cow bells and quipping cheeky encouragements, the drum corp implementing choreographed routines, and the endless number of groups with witty, breast-themed shirts. (Yes, I stole my post title from one group, wearing camo.)

The event also helped me feel closer to my sweet momma, who's been a healthy breast-cancer survivor for at least 12 years. Since she's in Atlanta and I'm here, I couldn't take her to brunch, but at least I could wear a sign in her honor, my way of holding her close, relishing her wisdom, openness, and honesty. My mother adores birds, unable to keep herself from pointing out every colorful variety that happens by any window she finds herself near. Just now, typing about her, I glanced into our backyard and noticed a scarlet cardinal, one she'd no doubt have seen a full minute before I did. If only she were here!

Ah, well, I'm aware how lucky I am to be able to miss my mother from across the country, as opposed to the streams of people today wearing signs of memoriam, thiking of those they once held dear. So, tonight, as I ponder today's slice of life's good stuff, I can't help but be glad I took part in something greater than myself, this open-armed community that walks and runs and laughs and cries and, above all, hopes.