Kathryn and I are at the Newark airport, waiting to board our flight to Nashville. We’ll be there through the weekend to work with her brothers as we empty her childhood home, as her parents have gone through the painful downsizing of late middle age. I’m looking forward to lots of embarrassing pictures and diary entries from her teenage years. We’ve traveled without each other far too much this year; though Kathryn is not exactly a morning person, it’s still a joy to have a few hours of quiet time together. Yesterday I scheduled my every-three-months scan – I’ll go in the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I’m filled with joy and relief to have had this year free of treatment – my usual hospital is still closed from hurricane damage, and they’re not expecting to open for another 4-6 weeks as they clean their cavernous basement and assess the damage the salt water has wrought. Luckily my many volumes of medical records are digitized and stored off-site. Living without cancer has left a huge void in my life. For four years, every ounce of energy and every dollar and all my focus has gone towards managing my disease. Now that need isn’t as present, and I’m still trying to figure out who I am post-cancer. The last couple weeks, I’ve spent many hours in my new studio, filling the space with gobs of acrylic paint and the Phillip Glass Pandora station. I think I’ve mentioned before that a wonderful local acupuncturist is generous enough to provide me with free treatment – the regular sessions are a godsend, and make a significant difference with my pain, fatigue and general well-being. Yesterday I finished a painting that he’s planning to put in his kids’ playroom. I’m in love with this one, and will have to recreate it for myself. Our family pilgrimage to see Monet’s gardens in Giverny and his Water Lilies in Paris has always been a lifelong highlight – it’s a great gift to now be able to try and reflect some of that wonderful pond light and shimmering texture into my own art.