Heading down to the big top, I figured this would be our last year as the small one is aging out, but after the performance, I was no longer sad about that fact. I've loved taking my kids to the Big Apple Circus year after year, but after the founder and ringmaster retired a few years ago, it just hasn't been the same. Like everything else, it seems to be dumbed down. It used to be so lively, colorful and joyful with nonstop action, now replaced by narrative and singing, the worst screeching clown I've ever seen and, well, it just seemed lack luster. It was missing the exuberance it used to have in spades. Everything changes, maybe I'm just an old fogey that doesn't roll with the times. Of course when we got home, Jonah had the same criticism, too much talking and what was up with that annoying clown?
We had fun there and the best part for me was the cashier when I was paying for popcorn who said "you've got a great head!" When people act normally like that, unafraid, undisturbed, it means more than you could know. It's brave of them to do it and so spectacularly fearless and human. It makes me feel so much less freakish because I feel like people cut a wide swath around me, I'm starting to feel out of place in the non-cancer world. For every five neighbors that walk by my house and say "hi" and "how's it going?", there is one that used to say hi and now looks down or the other way, pace increased just a bit. Luckily the numbers are on my side, but after awhile it gets to you.
This week off from daily shots has been a little dangerous, because now that the relentless cycle is broken, I don't want to go back. I feel so done. Done like the day you quit your job impulsively or pack a suitcase and leave. But I'm not done, I can't get in the car and keep on driving. Done, but not done.