LETTING GO, REVISITED.

Mom has FINALLY decided, once and for all , to put her racing gear away and relax. She will be putting up pictures of us instead of imagining herself on the ice. As exciting as sports can be, she told Edwin tonight that nothing beats hearing a rescue piggie purring; laughing when he popcorns straight up into the air, then running away only to end up popping madly again because he's too happy to be bound by gravity! That would be me, The Flying PandaPig!

Hey, it sure beats smashing head first into the wall when you turn a corner too fast on the ice and wake up wondering who you are and how you got upside down.

We are grounding: Healing. Calming. She knows who she is when we are on her lap: Happy! Content. Peaceful. And she wants for nothing with us around: It is THAT sweet! Yup, that's us! Good to the last drop, we are!

Our infectious affection has helped mom let go of who she was when she was healthy and embrace all the goodness that she has received since becoming too ill to speedskate into walls and turn upside down. Now the only stars in her eyes are us: Yours truly PandaPig,  YumYum the "One-Pig-Circus-Act"& and Bear the Beaver Pig: Rescue Pigs to the Rescue! Yup!

Mom is happy in a quieter way now; serene, in the moment, and content to hear YumYum conversate with the birds outside while we stifle our own giggles to avoid embarrassing him. (And those proud wild birds who do not realize they are courting a little guinea pig with their whistles and singing.)

No more racing around for mom:  No more chasing happiness. Every morning we chase her with our wake-up call: "Breakfast, Mom, we know you're up, so Breakfast. NOW! WwWHHeeeEEEEkkkKK!" The  three TenorPigs are her new starting gun and inner peace the finish line.

The race is on every morning right here at home, not in the skating rink, just the refrigerator: will it be carrots, lettuce, cucumber, or a kale kind of morning? Oranges? Apples? Hard decisions. Tough choices: Wonderful.

So, these 2010 Winter Olympics, Mom has put her skates away in the closet once and for all only to race, sliding in her winter socks to the fridge for our breakfast. She races For love: Love at the speed of ice!