pirate day

selfish (dear loved one)

I'm sorry that my fear becomes yours.

I regret that you get pulled into my panic.

I feel ill when my every cough, ache or bump twists your insides the way it does mine.

I would prefer to protect you.

I want to watch you smile, hear your laugh, feel your heart thump with joy when you pull me to your chest.

I don't want to make you scared, or sad or worried.

But I can't wish you weren't ever scared or sad or worried.

Because I need to share.

Because I need not to feel alone.

Because I need you.

taller than i

My beautiful first born turned 13 yesterday. The cliche is true - it happens in the blink of an eye. He's a good person - smart, creative, caring and funny. We are so proud of the man he is becoming.

not really the end

Did you know that the world is going to end on May 21st, 2011? I saw a guy on a street corner today with a sign that said just that. And then I saw a big-ass caravan with the same message.

Contemplation of our impending collective doom helps to put yesterday's election into perspective. It doesn't matter if the Conservatives were gifted with a whopping majority if none of us is going to live long enough to deal with the consequences. There must be more of these end of the world types than I previously suspected. That would help me understand how it is that so many of us thought endorsing the Conservatives would be a good idea.

Or something. You'll have to forgive me, it's been a hell of a day. I stayed up way too late watching the election results and then stumbled around like a zombie all day. I'm delirious.

I even went across town to an appointment, only to discover that it's on Thursday.

It was a very odd feeling last night to watch the NDP take over 100 seats (the previous high having been 43) and not feel elated. Proud, yes but not elated. I just kept watching the Conservative and NDP numbers rise at the same time and feeling like my head was going to explode.

Those of us who oppose pettiness, meanness and bigotry and who support human rights and democracy (not to put too fine a point on things) have four years to get our act together. 

And I think we need to really start screeching about proportional representation.

Meanwhile, I really am thrilled that my party is going to be the Official Opposition. There is hope for the good guys (thanks, good guys, for working so hard to get yourselves and like-minded folk elected). I'm thankful to all the volunteers, staff and veteran politicians and candidates who worked so hard to make this happen.

And, even if I am slightly hysterical, I'm choosing to repeat the words of one of the surprised, young, brand new MPs from Quebec, "It's going to be all right."

how he moves in the world

My baby turned 8 on Friday. I love him so much.

bittersweet moment

Yesterday afternoon, my baby fell asleep on my chest.

He's almost 8 now and it had been years since this happened. He had two late nights followed by two early mornings, and he'd been tired and cranky. I suggested we curl up in bed for some quiet time. He had a new book to crack open and he was keen.

But after awhile he grew restless. We talked about putting on a movie. I told him I felt tired and lazy. He said he did, too. After a few moments of lying quietly, his breath began to slow.

Suddenly, he sat up, “Mama, could you stop feeling so lazy. I thought we were going to watch a movie!”

“We could do that,” I answered. “But I thought we were going to have a little snooze first.”

To my surprise, he said, “OK. I'll have a little snooze.” He put his head on my chest, and within seconds was sleeping soundly.

We lay there like that for more than an hour (at one point he woke up, said “Where'd my book go?” I said, “You've been sleeping.” He said “Oh!” and went back to sleep), and I was blissed out. I was happy to have my book within reach but I spent a long time just looking at him, listening to him breathe and loving the feel of his weight on my chest.

As I said, this was the first time this had happened in years. And it was quite possibly the last.

All too soon, he woke and we went on with our afternoon. If I close my eyes and listen to my own slow breaths, I can still feel his weight on my chest.

my kids are alright

I had a dream a few nights ago.

My kids were in a giant flash mob, dancing their hearts out, surrounded by dozens of other kids and adults. They were exuberant and focused, their movements fluid and in synch with those around them. My heart swelled with pride and joy.

I learned that the flash mob had been created to drum up excitement over an upcoming performance. In a couple of hours, my kids would go on stage and perform. I could tell they were ready.

Then I was handed a note. My own performance was scheduled for right after theirs. I was wholly unprepared. I hadn't even looked at my script. I was rushing off to find it when my alarm went off.

Sacha was in a play very recently. And they did organize a flash mob a week before the performance, as a form of advertisement. And Sacha performed beautifully. My heart did swell with pride.

In part, my subconscious might have been remembering the play but I choose to believe that I was also sending myself a message.

Life with metastatic breast cancer is filled with uncertainty. But no matter what happens, my kids will be fine. They are smart, talented, resourceful and resillient. They have friends and family who love them. My kids will be alright.

early memories

A few childhood memories remain incredibly vivid. Some have been worn into grooves in my brain, they have been retold so often. With those, I am unsure where my recollections end and those of others begin. Others, I am quite certain, are mine alone.

Here are twenty memories, off the top of my head. Some I have likely shared here before but of some others, I have never spoken, let alone written:

1. Sliding down the driveway at my friend's house, until my pants were worn out. I was wearing a jump suit with giraffes on it and I was in big trouble.

2. Being in love with an airline pilot. He was my aunt's boyfriend and he brought me presents from all over the world. He also called me Miss Muffet.

3. My father telling me that my baby sister had been born.

Those first three memories were from when we lived in Montreal. We moved away just after I turned four. All the rest are from Hawkesbury, Ontario and take place before my 11th birthday.

4. Going to the Dairy Queen with my aunt to get a Buster Bar and dropping it on the way home.

5. Getting caught peeing in my neighbour's rose bushes.

6. Ringing doorbells with my friends and running away.

7. Knocking on my neighbours' doors and asking them for their autographs.

8. Having the belt on my blue coat ripped off by a boy.

9. Being pushed into a bush by some bullies on my way home from school.

10. Trying to ignore a class-mate who was standing at my desk chanting "Tête carrée!" (It means square head and was the standard put down that francophones used against anglos. I had an English last name, and spoke English at home, so I was fair game).

11. The boy I liked in Grade Five telling me that all the boys, including him, had crushes on my best friend.

12. Making up sins in confession because I was too embarassed to tell anything real to the priest. "I talked back to my mother" was a frequent sin.

13. Winning a medal for "best behaved girl" on the same day as my crush won "best behaved boy."

14. My friend Philippe telling me how babies were made - through kissing. I was fascinated and horrified.

15. Being on the winning team during Carnaval at Ecole Marguerite Bourgeois.

16. The way the principal of that school smelled like pipe tobacco and how much I loved him.

17. Being flashed, as I cut through the church yard on my way to school.

18. Seeing a dog that had been hit by a car on the street in front of my house and how it felt like hours until the city came to take it away.

19. Getting a red bike with a yellow banana seat for my 7th birthday.

20. Bringing my new cat across the street to meet my neighbour and telling her "If you don't like my cat, then I can't come to visit you anymore."

Your turn. Can you share some random childhood memories?

random on a rainy day

There's something about a cold, rainy day that makes me just want to crawl back under the covers. I've resisted that temptation all day but I'm fighting a cold and my brain doesn't seem to want to function, except in fits and starts.

Here are some random thoughts, that I'm posting as a compromise between cogent and nothing at all.

1. All four performances of my son's play went very, very well this week end. I could not be prouder of him. He worked very hard for many months, to learn his lines and his blocking and he got himself to every rehearsal on time. The director gushed about him and said that she'd loved to work with him again. He had a big part and he was brilliant.

2. I thought, as his mother, that I was very restrained. I found myself reacting quite viscerally to the kids and teacher who bullied him on stage (Sacha tells me that they are all very nice people) and had to remind myself that they were actors in a play.

3. I was also very restrained during the after-party at a local pub. We sat in a different room from Sacha, gave him money (hey wait - the community centre paid for dinner and drinks and he still kept our twenty bucks!) and we only went to talk to him when it was absolutely necessary. I did call out "There's my baby!" when he walked in the door but otherwise did my best to embarass him only minimally.

4. The pub did not have a wide selection of food, so I decided to pretend I was a student again and share calamari, antijitos and nachos, washed down with beer. Afterwards, my GERD reminded me that I no longer have the constitution of a student. My GERD is well managed but apparently fried things can knock down the best defenses.

5. My jaw is very sore today. I think I'm going to have to break down and wear my mouthguard. Every time I think of it, I remember Tina Fey and Steve Carell in Date Night. It really is that sexy.

6. I've been editing a book in progress for a friend and loving it. It's made me remember how much I love that kind of work - especially when I'm working with good writing and interesting information (which I definitely am).

7. My skirmish with Zellers ended with them sending me a cheque for $7.48 because they "value my business."

8. This blog post was interrupted when Daniel's school called. He was sent home with a tummy ache. He was fine when he got home. This happens every Monday afternoon. Time for a meeting with the school.

9. Daniel just told me to "stop being so moody."

giving in to the monkey brain

Herceptin

I think I'm happy with the outcome of the brouhaha over Herceptin in Ontario. For those of you outside the province or outside the loop. Jill Anzarut, a 35 year old woman undergoing treatment for breast cancer made the news last week when she announced that the province had to pay for Herceptin because her Her2+ tumour was less than one centimetre (that's about 1/4 inch) in diameter.

The province initially refused to budge but eventually caved after a massive campaign played out in the social and traditional media. Access to Herceptin will now much more room for discretion when it comes to providing access to the drug.

I feel good about this. It's not that I think that every drug should be funded for every person. Her2+ cancers are very aggressive and, as best put by Stephen Chia, chair of the British Columbia breast-tumour group, “In HER-2 positive cancers, it’s not the size that drives it; it’s the HER-2 gene that drives it.” 

Election

Canadians are once again going to the polls. I am not happy about this. 

I'm sad that the long overdue Bill C-389 protecting the rights of transgendered people will die before it gets the chance to be thrown out by the Senate.

I'm worried that we will end up with a Conservative majority.

I have election fatigue. There was a time in my life when an election would make me feel excited and hopeful. Now I just think, "Ugh."

Presents in the mail

Did you see my scrabble pendant in yesterday's post? My friend Leslie sent it to me after I told her I'd like to have on with my initial on it. It made me very happy to open the envelope that held my surprise.

The bad with the good

Last week, I received my author's copy of the current issue of Canadian Woman Studies. The theme this quarter is Women and Cancer and I have a poem that is part of a piece called "Seven Reflections on Breast Cancer by Seven Women Who Worked Together." I'm happy about that.

I'm far less happy about another piece I stumbled on when I was leafing through the issue. It's called "The Private/Public Split in Breast Cancer Memoirs." It was written by a woman who came to my book launch in Toronto and asked for permission to speak in order to seek contributions - something to which I readily agreed. She also asked me to contribute to the issue, which prompted me to reach out to my writing group.

I had no idea that she planned to write a scathing deconstruction of my book - but that's what she did. I know that all writers get bad reviews but I found her comments to be very critical of me as a person (I guess you can't seperate the analysis of a memoir from its author) and quite unfair. 

I'm sure how to respond or react, or whether I should do so at all. I've actually been unable to finish reading the article. With a distinct lack of maturity, I threw the journal onto the living room floor and it stayed there for several days. I only just picked it up, in order to write this post.

I'll let you know what I decide to do. Meanwhile, I'm pasting my very own contribution below. It's a very small part of a greater whole (and not the strongest piece by the seven of us by any stretch) but it's mine and, like all my writing, expresses a little bit of what has been in my heart.

Snap shots

December 2^nd, 2005.

When I close my eyes, I see myself as I was then.

Short dark hair and boots with heels.

Irritable and excited in equal measure.

I knew big change was coming. And it did. But it was not what I expected.

I was getting undressed when I found the lump.

July 1^st, 2006

I close my eyes and see myself as I was then.

Round, bald and bloated. But happy.

Chemo is behind me. Or so I expect.

I am self-conscious but also hungry.

I eat two burgers at the barbecue.

December 24^th, 2006

I close my eyes and see myself as I was.

I rallied for Christmas Eve but in the end the pain got the best of me.

My liver was riddled with tumours. And I had waited too long for the morphine.

My mother had to put me to bed. That comforted me.

And so did the drugs.

June 25^th, 2007

I close my eyes and I can taste

The strawberries on my tongue

The sensual pleasure of the whipped cream

And the Niagara ice wine as it slid down my throat.

I knew I would soon have something to celebrate.

December 16^th, 2009

I close my eyes so I can think.

I have now been in remission for 30 months.

And I will be in treatment for the rest of my life.

Some days I wake up celebrating.

Some days I grieve for what I have lost.

Today is a sad day.

Tomorrow will be better. Or maybe the day after that.

how i fill my days (for better or worse)

where i've been

Update: I've decided that my habit of using initials instead of names makes some sentences confusing and nearly unreadable. Henceforth, I will use my discretion - and mostly use names.

Hey there.

March has been a busy month for our little household. And last week was March Break. We all drove to Toronto and then our oldest, Sacha, went to visit two of his parental grandparents in Florida. It was his first flight (other than a short hop between Toronto and Ottawa) on his own (and he's now too old to be an "unaccompanied minor"). 

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It seems that I'm not so great at multi-tasking these days. I have lots of blog posts in my head but before I write them, I thought I'd catch you up on what we've been up to since my last post.

On Saturday, March 12, I ran a bunch of errands and packed for our week away. We also went shopping for new clothes that my 7 year old could wear for a theatre date with his Grandma in Toronto.

He was very pleased with this outfit. The photo doesn't do him justice.

On Sunday, March 13, we drove to Toronto. That evening, Tim and I went out for a delicious Indian meal to celebrate our 20th anniversary (we celebrate the anniversary of our first date because our wedding anniversary is September 7. At that time of year, our lives are so busy. Besides, March needs a reason to celebrate). It's hard to believe it's been that long - and we still like each other.

I started my day on Monday, March 14 by lining up outside the Toronto office of Passport Canada, since we had realized the previous Friday (at 4:30) that our son's passport had expired (I can now safely confess this, as he has been and returned to Florida and you all can know that our parental ineptitude didn't lead to tragedy). I was second in line (well before dawn) behind a woman and her two young children from Northern Ontario who had been turned away from their flight to South Carolina the previous day (the woman's MP had assured her that her son could travel to the US on an expired passport. He could not). Her name was also Laurie and her boys were also five years apart. We bonded, as we stood on the pavement outside the passport building for 90 minutes.

Once the new passport was sorted, Tim and I took our youngest to the zoo (Sacha opted to go check out the  TIFF building with his Grandma). I didn't take any pictures but we had a great time. It's a sprawling place with animals that appear to be reasonably content. At least I hope so. Daniel was ecstatic. His favourite animals were the gorillas and the bats (no photos. I was too distracted and perhaps still groggy).

On Tuesday, March 15th, Tim drove Sacha to the airport in Toronto (I was happy not to go, since I was beside myself with anxiety) and then headed back to Ottawa to work (he was extremely patient with me as I texted him every forty-five minutes for updates).

I was happily distracted by the wonderful company of my friend Andrea We went out for brunch and then spent a few hours at the Purple Purl, one of my favourite places in the world. Andrea's spouse Patchen joined us for dinner and we three had a lovely meal. I was back at my Mom-in-Law's place before my seven year old who had spent the day with Grandma and gone to both a Second City kids' show and Billy Elliott.

On Wednesday, March 16, Daniel and I took the train to Guelph, where we hooked up with some cousins and went to the Butterfly Conservatory. Despite the heat in the building (I looked with envy at the folks who'd worn shorts), we had a great time. Besides the amazing butterflies (a gorgeous blue one landed on Daniel, to his great delight) there were many kinds of birds, fish and turtles.

Daniel and his young cousin Y. had some strong mutual admiration going on.

On Thursday, March 17, was primo cousin hanging out time. Daniel loved being the oldest cousin. Five year old N. (whose two older sisters were in Florida with Sacha) seemed equally pleased to have some boy time. 

I took the boys to see Mars Needs Moms in 3D (great animation, problematic movie) and then we went to a really great park. That evening, the boys entertained each other happily over dinner out (at Swiss Chalet - the pubs were packed with partiers dressed in green) and my brother-in-law and I had the chance to converse in complete sentences (my poor sister-in-law was at home recovering from a very bad case of food poisoning. She was more of a trooper that day than I would have been in her shoes).

On Friday, March 18, we returned to Toronto and I got to spend the afternoon and evening with my dear friend Leslie. We had lunch, browsed the Distillery District, went for a big walk along the Boardwalk and then had dinner at our favourite pub over pints. Meanwhile, Grandma took Daniel up the CN Tower and for a swim at the Y.

We took the train home on Saturday, March 19. We watched far too many episodes of The Magic School Bus  but not once did Daniel say, "How much longer?" or "Are we there yet?"

It was a very good week.

The last couple of days have been focused on re-entry - catching up with friends, going to appointments and making endless lists of things to do. As of this evening, Sacha is safely home. Tomorrow we can return to routine (bring on the fights about homework and cleaning up bedrooms). Whatever form it takes, a break from routine can be a very good thing.

feeling better

Because I've been able to go out for walks and for runs with the dog.

Because I had a really nice weekend and a very nice Valentine's Day (especially for someone who doesn't really celebrate it).

Because I have so many wonderful people in my life.

Because some of my symptoms have improved considerably (and they most definitely did not improve at all before I was diagnosed with the recurrence of cancer).

Because I have survived experiences that have been far more physically traumatic (like giving birth. Twice) than an endoscopy could possibly be.

I am feeling better today.

almost wordless wednesday: playing hookie

He said, "That was perfect."

happy new year!

In 2010, I:

Made soup.

Started running again and kept at it (in fact, I did the Resolution Run 5K last night before breaking into the wine and fondue).

Started editing my novel. It doesn't really have an ending yet but I don't totally hate what I've written, so that's a start.

Found a writing buddy.

Knit a lot of dish cloths.

Played lots of Scrabble/Lexulous

Had my heartbroken when my dog died.

Went to Florida in the in the summer to get away from a heat wave.

Spent some quality time with girlfriends.

Organized a team for the Run for the Cure, called No Pink for Profit. By run day, we were more than 40 women and we raised more than $20,000.

Fell in love with Twitter.

Finally got a smart phone.

Learned that grief is not a linear process.

Spent a lot of time thinking about community, friends and family. I am very, very lucky.

For 2011, I wish us all love, peace, good health and many wonderful adventures.

and then my hair got did (final makeover post, i promise)

Of the four women being made over, two of us picked our clothes and shoes in the morning and then had our hair done after lunch. I was grateful to be in the afternoon group and have someone else do the work for a couple of hours.





Actually, I did have to do a bit of work. It took concentration to separate those little papers.





You can't really see all of them, but there are THREE little bowls of colout being applied to my head.





This is my favourite part.











And this is why my hair will never again look the way it did when Tony was finished with it. How does anyone do the back of their own head like that?







Thanks so much to Tony from L'Elégance Salon (they don't have a web site or I'd provide a link), the St. Laurent Centre and the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation for making all of this possible.



(All photos by S. Sioufi except the last which was provided by T. Vincent)

makeover day

We arrived at the studio very early.

The anticipation was far worse than the experience of being on camera, which went pretty smoothly. And I didn't fall down!

The Fab Four with Tony from L'Elégance Hair (Tony gave us hours of his time - all day Monday and early Wednesday morning - taking great care with our colour and cuts. This lovely man is an artist. You should all go to St. Laurent Centre and get him to do your hair).

My favourite interviewer.

Blogging on the fly today (more pics and words about all of this soon) but I didn't want to let another day go by without acknowledging those who made this possible.

My friends AB for nominating me, SS for coming on Monday and MR for getting up early and joining my family at the studio.

My man and my boys (all photos courtesy of SKW) for the nomination, for getting up early to come to the studio and cheering every step of the way (and for saying that I was beautiful BEFORE I had the makeover).

The staff at Laura, Town Shoes, and L'Elégance Hair Salon.

Tasha and Renée from the St. Laurent Centre for the styling and the support.

To the lovely and talented woman who did all of our makeup on Wednesday morning (her name is escaping me. If you know it, please let me know so I can credit her).

And most of all, to Bernice from the St. Laurent Centre and Beth from the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. These women are dynamos who combine talent and determination with an enormous amount of compassion and kindness.

And finally, I need to mention Paula, JL and Tanya - the women with whom I went through this experience. The love, support and joy that each felt for each other and for me is impossible to express in words. Thanks so much for being so beautiful. I really do love each one of you.

It must be mentioned that this was all in aid of the Courage Campaign of the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. The Foundation is building a Wellspring Centre that will provide "emotional, psychological and educational support, free of charge, to individuals and families living with cancer." As a an ongoing cancer patient, I can tell you that this the kind of thing that Ottawa needs desperately, to go along with the cutting edge medical care from which we all benefit.

It's not too late to make a donation! (The St. Laurent Centre, in addition to funding the makeovers, donated an additional $10,000 to the campaign. I know where I'm doing my Xmas shopping this year).

makeover show tomorrow

For those in the Ottawa area, my makeover will be televised on the A Channel tomorrow morning. My segments will air tomorrow morning at 9:13, 9:35 and 9:48.







Yesterday, I shopped and had my hair done. Tune in tomorrow for the big "reveal." Look at my smile in this pic. I was very spoiled and surrounded by amazingly caring people all day. I was overwhelmed by the kindness and enthusiasm of everyone I met, including the other three women who joined me in this adventure.

Thanks so much to the St. Laurent Centre and the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation for making this happen, to T. and AB for nominating me and to SS for coming with me for moral support (and taking all these great photos).

mind body spirit

Thanks to Andrea for the photo.

I just spent an inspiring (and I don't use that word lightly) week end at Body, Mind, Spirit, 2010: National Conference for Young Women Living with Breast Cancer.

My best parts:

A Friday afternoon workshop: "Take charge of Your Treatment for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer" with Dr. Maureen Trudeau. Engaging, accessible, interesting, informative and hopeful.

A Saturday afternoon workshop: "Intimacy after Cancer: Rekindling the Flame" with Dr. Sally Kydd. Amusing, motivating, reassuring, helpful and just plain fun.

A Sunday morning workshop: "Living with Metastatic Breast Cancer. Support that Works" with Dr. Tzeporah Cohen. Emotional,moving, cathartic, uniting, strengthening.

Speakers who resonated: Deborah Dubenofsky (Ontario Region Board Chair, Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation) and Carol Ann Cole.

My takeaway message (from Dr. Natasha Zajmalowski, Dr. Rob Rutledge, Dr. Roanne Segal and others)-

When it comes to breast cancer recurrence, it appears that insulin is the root of all evil. Lowering insulin levels improves the odds for a long and healthy life. How to do this:

1. Get at least thirty-five minutes of moderate exercise every day. Hooray! Something I'm already doing right!

2. Maintain a healthy body weight. This has provided the kick in the pants to re-commit to dropping 44lbs by my 44th birthday. Weighing too little isn't good either but that's never been my problem.

3. Eliminate or reduce alcohol and sugar. The insulin explanation is the first one I've understood and accepted re the link between these yummy things and cancer recurrence. To be truthful, not being an "all or nothing" kind of person, I don't see myself promising to never consume booze or sweets again. I can't even say that I haven't partaken since the conference, this being the season of Hallowe'en and pumpkin ale. I can say that I will make a greater effort to hold out for the good stuff and not give in to cravings.

I'm happy to say that although this message was consistent, the speakers seemed to be devoid of judgment. No one was blaming the victim or telling cancer patients that they brought the cancer on themselves.

I still feel that there are greater environmental and medical issues that need to be addressed. But there are just so few things we can control as cancer patients that I appreciate straightforward advice and simple things I can do to increase my odds of being around to see my children grow up.

Thank you so much to the staff (especially Jenn McNeill of the CBCN) and volunteers (especially Andrew, a volunteer from Humber college who helped with my books, kept me company and was enormously supportive during and after my book signing) at the Canadian Breast Cancer Network and the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation for helping me to promote Not Done Yet, and especially for organizing an amazing conference.

Can we do it again next year, please?

what i would miss

I just did an interesting writing prompt from Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg:

"Tell me what you will miss when you die."

The instructions were to write for ten minutes without censoring yourself. Here's what I wrote:

My kids

My spouse

My family

My friends

My dog

Beautiful fall days

Walks along the canal with my dog

Getting lost in a book

Taking a nap on a cold afternoon

Knitting with friends

The feeling of euphoria when I write something good

Music

Good food

Laughing

Wondering at art

A hot bath after exercise

Physical intimacy (all kinds)

The happy feeling when I unexpectedly run into someone I like

Learning new things

Aha! moments

Seeing people do good things

Being proud of my children

Noisy gatherings around my dining room table

Doing fun things for the first time

Doing familiar things that make me happy

Connecting creatively or intellectually

Making new friends

Having old friends and family members who 'get' me

Scrabble

Fresh starts

Clean sheets

Small kindnesses

Spectacular acts of bravery

Feeling proud of myself

The way the pavement smells after a summer rain

The possibility of tomorrow

What about you?