the elephant

There's an elephant in the room. I'm not really sure how it got there. As far as I can tell the walls are intact, there is no evidence of how he may have gained entrance to our house, or more specifically, the 'living' room. Nonetheless, there he is lounging in the corner, staring at us, big sad elephant eyes and that trunk always searching for a peanut that may have strayed under the couch or somewhere just out of his reach. He's made it clear that he's never leaving. For awhile I tried to just ignore him, but he's big, and he demands time and space.

His name is Leukemia. He's part of our lives. And now, after some initial resistance, mainly on my part, he goes everywhere with us. You see our dear Leukemia never thought twice about entering our life, and from that day he arrived unanounced in the living room, he never even attempted to leave. He didn't try to squeeze out the window, didn't knock out a wall in a mad attempt to break free. I on the other hand, did everything to try and get him to budge. I tried to lure him outside with his favorite, a big chunk of cheese, but he was dedicated to staying. I even tried to hide him in the corner, cover him in a big sheet and pretend he was some weird art project or statue to be revelaed during some special event at a later date. I even tried to get mad at him but no one wants to yell at an elephant. Those eyes just look sadder and sadder and that's not fun.

So in the end I decided to accept him, treat him with respect. Give him attention even, as long as, eventually he would leave in the night just as silently as he arrived. And the life we had before would return. I took the blink of his eyes as a sign of agreement. And so now we live with an elephant.

Actually, it's not so bad for me. The crafty beast has an uncanny ability to seperate his shadow from himself. I get the shadow following me around. David unfortunately gets the full elephant. It's funny to look behind you and see an elephant's shadow trodding along behind. I usually only have to take a quick glance back to see him, or rather, his shadow, lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, slowly sneaking up behind me to better hear a conversation or see what I am doing. This may be a bit creepy a big looming shadowy thing slinking along behind you, or me rather. But I can assure you it's not. He even comes in handy sometimes, an excuse for a shy me to escape from a conversation. Oh, I have to go, the elephant needs attention. He's kind of like a kid, full of spirit and energy and he just can't help following me. It's what he does.

Of course David doesn't have it so easy. Leukemia is all his flesh and bone is the big ball at the end of a somewhat imaginary chain that had been fused permanently to David's leg, correction, to David's soul and being.

Imagine going to the store. It's such an ordeal. It goes something like this:

David: Do you want to go to the store?
Cindy: Sure, do we have to bring Leukemia?
David: Yeah, he's tired today though.
Cindy: That's ok, I'll get the peanuts, you get your shoes on and I'll coax him to the door.

David opens the door, and, as it happens Leukemia bounds out and we have to chase him around calling his name trying to get him back under control.

David: You got him?
Cindy: Yeah I got him.
David: Don't let him go.
Cindy: Don't worry, he's not going anywhere. Get the back of the car open, I'll shove him in.

And away we go smashed into a car that clearly should not be transporting and elephant. David and I in the front with our seats arranged as far forward as possible to give our elephant just a few extra inches of space. Leukemia, oblivious to our efforts to make him more comfortable, extendeds his trunk out the back window, the speed of the car creating a breeze that causes this rediculous appendage to flap in the wind as we speed down the highway.

And so we continue this way accepting the beast into our lives. And now that I've finally stopped resisiting his exisitance, life has become easier. At least for now, while he's behaving. In fact, I can't imagine a day without him, although I do enjoy the days that he spends snoozing in the corner or looking out the window, occupying as little space as possible. Not that I can say I'm in love with the idea of him, or ever will be. But in the meantime I've decided to accept, and if possible, enjoy. After all, how many people get to live with an elephant?

*update*



Leuk and the elephant



On december 4th we brought home a wiggling ball of fur and clumsiness. He does really live in our living room, and digs holes in the back yard. He makes us laugh and sing and dance in the kitchen. He is named after 'the elephant'. His name is Leuk. And as dark and big and heavy and Leukemia is, Leuk is the opposite. Leuk and Leukemia have become good friends. And we're ok with that. In fact, this makes me smile. I watch them tear around the house chasing each other, falling over each other, pretnding to hate each other, then later curling up on the couch together and I realize life goes on, and that we're all just doing the best that we can with what we have.

Interestingly, soon after Leuk arrived he received three gifts. All were stuffed, two squeaked, one had a red hat... all were elephants. The bearers of the gifts did not know of our live-in elephant. So, I have to wonder... is there relevance to this coincidence? I'll leave that to you to decide.