A phone call. A moment to mark.

My phone rang today at about 2.30pm.
I was out running a shopping errand.
It was Sonja’s number.
My heart sank.
I stare at the phone.
My stomach clenched.
I answered after the third ring and another last minute prayer.
You can squeeze in a lot of praying in two cell phone rings.
My heart in my mouth.
I listen to her voice. Light, not heavy.
It was clear.
Her result is clear.
No cancer.
I whoop, I laugh, I shout.
No Mastectomy, no irradiation, no chemo.
When I have put down the phone I call my parents.
When I hang up, I realise I am so near to tears.
I have to get a grip and clear my head.
What a wonderful result.
My beautiful, beautiful brave wife.
I am so happy.
I have said so many prayers, and made lots of promises.
I am very in debt and have lots to pay off.
I will have to request a credit rating and pay off monthly.

And in a strange way, without being corny, I am slightly sad.
Empathetic.
I think of how many people are getting, have got, and will get a phone call that is not happy.
My heart breaks for them. And the girl in the bed next to Sonja. Her cancer far more developed.
I hope that they all get happy phone calls too.

But for now nothing can spoil our happiness.
Tomorrow we wake up, buy some last minute supplies, and then head back on the five hour drive to our home on the hill.

While we were away, they delivered a load of wood and poles and roofing to a spot about 3 km from our house. Our bakkie (pick up) is loaded with more wood and supplies, so when we get back we can spend the week-end building some seats, benches, counters and a bed for Caleb.
Then a loo, a shower, and a small front verhanda.

Home we go.
With smiles, and laughter, and the music on loud, and the windows open.