Life is like a box of... crayons?

As horrible as cancer was, my life is profoundly better having been stricken.

Cancer allows me to live my life more freely - as facing death often does. The person I was before my Hodgkin's diagnosis is long gone... and I am glad.

A pre-Hodgkin's Matt would not have been able to open himself up to serious relationships and would not have been able to let go of the little things.

And although I still hold on too long to some of the less meaningless things that occur in every day life, I am happily married - pretty much the most serious relationship one can have!

Today is my wife Sheryl's birthday. If you pay any attention to this blog at all, you know that Sheryl is an angel.

Sheryl rescued me from one of the lowest points of my life by simply loving me.

And fortunately, I was able to love her back.

Although we're still newlyweds, I can see Sheryl and I becoming one of those aging, loving couples who - above anything else - enjoy being in each others' company.

Granted, I fear for our longevity, seeing as that we both need to take our health more seriously, but I want the time we spend together to be fresh and exciting.

One of the reasons I love riding my bike so much is because every ride - no matter how familiar it is, or how often you ride the same path - is different.

And that is how I want my life with Sheryl to be.

I never knew I could love someone as much as I do Sheryl. I never knew someone could make my life so rich. I never knew that I would be able to share so many good blessings in my life with the same person.

Many people think about birthdays in a bad light. I used to be one of them. At the age of 28, I felt like I never accomplished what I should have accomplished in life. It really depressed me.

Now, at 41, I still don't feel like I've accomplished what I was supposed to, but I know that I'm getting closer. Instead of being depressed, I am hopeful.

Because of Sheryl's job, and because of our relationship, and because of the curveballs in life that I've dealt with, Sheryl and I both understand that we are lucky to celebrate each day - but moreso birthdays.

We don't celebrate Hallmark holidays - Valentine's Day, Sweetest Day, Love Your Partner's Genitals Day, whatever. I believe that people in my life must know how I feel about them - all of the time.

But ever since I was a little boy, birthdays were always special. As such, I will try to make sure that Sheryl remembers every birthday she had while I was in her life.

Baby, I love you with all of my heart. You have brought my 8 color Crayola life into the world of the 150 count telescoping crayon tower. I am so grateful to have you as my wife.

Happy birthday. I hope we celebrate many happy healthy birthdays in the future!

Cool Blue

As I pedalled on down the street
My cool, blue bike gleaming in the sunlight
I dropped down into a higher gear and cruised...

My problems melted behind me,
The pain of daily living dissolved like a good shot of morphine.
I forgot more and more as the sun shone on my face
and my heart beat out the rhythm of shambala.

The wind whispered sweet nothings to me,
And the tail wind bowed trees as I rode by.

My lungs blew out the nasty taste of the morning newspaper -
The coffee dregs that sadden me every time I read -
And they sucked in the refreshing gift of elation.

I caught myself smiling more than once
As I chased the sunlight,
Making a silent vow to never let the sun set on this ride.

Every wrong turn was right
Every stoplight was a reminder to drink
And I ignored the nagging voice that told me to turn around.
I wasn't going back unless I wanted to.

And so I rode with the angels of Fausto Coppi and Jacques Anquetil,
Reaching new heights with Marco Pantani and Charly Gaul,
I remembered nothing of my shitty morning,
But everything amazing aspect...

of this exact moment.

A Little Bit of This, A Little of That...

It's been something like fifteen years now - I forget how long for sure - that I have been writing a Christmas poem/story to include in my Christmas cards.

It began when I fell on some hard times and couldn't afford to buy Christmas presents. So I took a long, hard look at my talents to try and find some way to give something to those I love.

I quickly realized that my greatest asset was my writing, and decided to write a Christmas poem. Well, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending how you think about it!), the poem was well-received, and I was asked if I would be doing one the following year.

With mounting pressure, I decided to give it another go. The following year, however, I was in better financial straits, and was able to buy presents. Nonetheless, the Christmas writing came. Again, it was well-received, and I was in the ironic position of gathering a fan base of sorts.

After a couple of years, the poem turned into a story, and I began enjoying the writing process. I also began to put more thought into it. I tend to find ways now of making it a little more personal, by including a major event in my life, or including a person we know.

The whole process has actually become quite interesting, and when I start writing the Christmas poem in early November, it starts getting me into the Christmas spirit - usually. :)

I also began to wonder how my writings would influence the way people thought about Christmas, and Santa Claus. I started dropping my own history of Santa, creating - in a sense - my own world within my world.

Sheryl and I have an acquaintance who is currently starting the writing process, and was looking to me to help her focus on making the story good. She had done a lot of songwriting, but not so much story-writing. That was interesting, because I always wanted to do some songwriting, but was never able to find a hook.

And a hook is what it's all about. I mean, when you start writing something of substance, you need to think about how you want to draw the reader in. Do you want to do this subtly, sorta of mysteriously, or do you want to grab them by the shirt and yank them headlong into the deep end?

Each has its own value. For instance, I tried to grab the reader by the lapels for "Cancerboy". But the Christmas stories tend to be more of an unfolding story that tries to draw the reader into the Christmas spirit as it goes along.

Stange, but I never thought I'd have to put so much focus on writing - it's always come so easy for me, but when I put thought into it, rather than regurgitating my thoughts on paper, it achieves its purpose a lot easier.

And that's a good thing.

So what's your story, morning glory?