“Are you still awake?”

“yup”

“wanna go watch the sunrise with me?”

“Yes. That’s what I really want to do.”

We had been driving in the car since 4am, and it was now 5:30. Unfortunately my brilliant plan to help Sam fall asleep had failed miserably. It worked when he was a baby, why couldn’t it work on a 6 year old coming off a week of Dexemethesone?  So, in the wee hours of the morning in a desperate bid to get some sleep into our boy, I bundled him into the car and we agreed that we would not talk while we drove down the highway, hopefully giving Sam’s wired brain a chance to relax and allow his body to sleep. Sam had not slept at all the entire night. He had spent it mostly lying on his bed with his eyes open, taking a break from that to make a lego helicopter between 1am and 2am, completely calm and happy, but also completely awake.

So, I got to watch the sun rise over the beach with my beloved son.  Something I probably wouldn’t have done in the past, but now, knowing the preciousness of time, it was not an opportunity I could miss. And though I hate cancer, I also find myself thankful for the memories and moments that only a situation like this could bring.