A week-old vignette: An Everly Brothers Farewell

The evening before her surgery Daniela opted to take a long shower, a bit unusual since her preferred method of aquatic repose is a warm bath. (The pre-op instruction sheet ruled out bathing and showering the morning of surgery. The taboo was not related to the water, but pertained to fragrances and unguents veiled by soaps, body-washes, shampoos and conditioners.) While she showered, I busied myself inspecting my packing list...p. 136-137, The Breast Cancer Husband, by Marc Silver. I read silently..."What to bring. Stuff to pass the time: a laptop, a book".... The sirenic tune, vaguely familiar, drew my attention away from my list. I placed the book on my lap. I mused to decipher the lyrics. Journal in hand, I reached for my pen, found a blank page and wrote what I heard: Bye Bye Breasts | Bye Bye Sweet Caress | I Think I'm Gonna Miss You || Bye Bye Breasts | Bye Bye Sweet Caress | Hello Emptiness || I Think I'm Gonna Cry.

This refrain played a few more times before the water stopped running. A few minutes later, I still had not heard the bathroom door open and hesitated wondering if my new field guide, The Breast Cancer Husband, covered this particular scenario. Doubtful. No time. A deep breath, a small step into the hallway and a few more to the bathroom. I didn't even think of knocking as I both quailed and turned the knob.

No tears...only water drops rappelling from her hair onto the terra cotta tile. No frown...only a sensible smirk punctuated by that cerulean stare, her gawkish terry cloth figure resembling an oversized albino she-bat (with a pedicure) in self-embrace. If there was a hint of sadness, mourning or grief emanating from this comical chimera, it was clouded by an aura of acceptance, an ethereal sense of peace.

"Are you OK," I offered.
"Yeah. I'm fine," the response.
"I like your song. Cute, but morbid...," I parried with a wink.
"I know," she ended with another wink.

I closed the door behind me and walked back to my packing list...a music headset, snacks.... The sirenic tune returned for an encore, the lyrics joy-riding atop the steam that swaggered down the hallway: Bye Bye Breasts | Bye Bye Sweet Caress | I Think I'm Gonna Miss You || Bye Bye Breasts | Bye Bye Sweet Caress | Hello Emptiness || I Think I'm Gonna Craa-ay, Craa-ay.

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After drafting this post, I thought it would be appropriate to share a photograph taken almost six months ago in Sicily by Daniela's cousin Marcella... ...Sirens in the Sea, mother and daughter.