Breaking Through the Storms, Parts 9, 10, and Epilogue
encontrar mi
9.
Sweetie, I need you to know
That your touch means so much.
To reach remission I need
Your outward love, your lust,
Reassurance and fun.
I can’t complete this on my own.
Today I’m not feeling as well –
I want your assistance in the kitchen.
Will you lift that for me?
I’m too tired to reach it.
He understands, concedes,
Retrieves the scallion
Garnish I forget
Because my energy
Has run out.
10.
Sitting on the edge of our bed
Watching him dress, I cry and confess
I’m limping as I did a year ago.
I’m frustrated and fear I may never
Hike or dance like I used to.
He says, You’re not starting over,
You are much stronger,
You will heal your hip, build bone
Even if you fracture.
Stay positive, hang in there,
Keep moving, keep going.
“Caretaker’s Hand,” Watercolor by Laura E. Garrard
Epilogue.
My husband and I are building a sailboat,
His hands mostly, I supervise, and we discuss.
First a desperate purchase of distraction,
We mull over plans, fiberglass and sand
The hope-born Lizzie G, named for me.
In two years, we’ll be sailing.
Funny, isn’t it, how the vulnerability of death
Breaks through storms unlike anything else.
The interior of our Lizzie G sailboat at the end of 2024’s building. Photograph by Mike Nordell
The exterior of Lizzie G, 2024. Photograph by Mike Nordell
©️ 2025 Laura E. Garrard
Laura E. Garrard is a multiple myeloma thriver and published author living in the Northwest. Her poetry and prose have appeared in journals like The Madrona Project, Amethyst, Silver Birch, TulipTree Review, and others. Garrard has been chosen as a finalist for Bellevue Literary Review's John & Eileen Allman Prize for Poetry and nominated for a Pushcart Prize.