A glass of red Italian wine and I feel brave enough to share.

Over a year ago, I had a basal cell surgery on my right temple. I leaned back in the chair with the seasoned doctor and a sweet nurse as we talked about random things to ease my strangled fear. We talked about the picture on the wall—a painting of a beach house near where I once lived. A place that now feels like a lifetime ago. That town, a far and distant memory, but I can still feel the wind coming off the sound…and the pink cotton candy grass lining the street… and what it felt before everything became fight or flight.

Not long after that surgery came the words: melanoma, stage zero.
It was on my back— a freckle that had been there as long as I can remember.

Now I have a scar to remind myself of what lies beneath the surface.

I screamed.

The PA called, and it surprised both of us to hear that diagnosis. I screamed in my car, windows rolled up, on a beautiful day as I left the gym. The sun was shining—bright and yellow—and I screamed until I lost my voice. I grew tired and weary, and the thought of damaging my vocal cords almost felt like a relief.

My Mema was spring.

She wore colors of the trees when they showed off… pinks, blues, yellows.. she was spring, inside and out.

I can scream one day in such distress and pull myself together, become spring .. even in winter.. and shake myself off. That’s what women do. We become strong when we need to be…even if that means suppressing ourselves and we shake it off.

But it never fully leaves.

And if we aren’t careful, the body keeps the score.

I wore yellow the other night at the club. Dinner with my husband. I wasn’t really feeling it—I was tired for some reason—but I wore it anyways. It felt airy and different, and I thought of her as I carried one of her vintage purses.

How was she always happy?
How was she always positive?

Was it her many decades of life that taught her the ways of joy? How did she have this extraordinary resilience? Have we become so safe, so comfortable, that we fall apart at the first feeling of pain?

That night, as I put on my favorite pale pink lipstick (Clinique, Barely) I told myself:

Become spring.
Become the woman you want to be.

I hope more than anything these words remind you to listen to who your soul knows you are meant to be… that even in the depths, you can still become.

With Love,
Erica
Salty Blonde Living