I bring you the celebration of my boobaversary - or the one-year anniversary of my final breast reconstruction surgery post cancer. One year with these new boobs. And while I’m very thankful the cancer was evicted from my body, I hate that not a day goes by when I’m not reminded it was ever there. You would think I would have learned by now that grief can never be put behind us - and experiencing cancer, losing my breasts, feeling as if my body had betrayed me, is all a form of grief.

I first heard the ticking of the clock at Jackson’s 8th grade graduation. It was faint but noticeable. “Four. More. Years”, it whispered.The buzz of summer activities drowned out the ticking until two-weeks before school started when I took Jackson to freshman orientation. While we entered the cafeteria together, Jackson was quick to part from me and find his friends. I too found friends, though kept stealing looks behind me to where Jackson was bouncing around with a group of boys I knew well.

Over the years, I have learned that my post-vacation blues are inevitable, and it is better to plan for and accommodate them than feign surprise at my inability to be productive the day after we come home. I’ve also learned that it helps to make at least one fun plan the week we return. Specifically, something I don’t get to do often and that doesn’t include my family with whom I’ve just spent a week solid.

I find few regular days in life more stressful than the 24 hours before leaving for a trip. The day of hosting a party at our home used to come close, but at this point, if I am inviting you to a party at my house then you know we are a come-as-you-are family. Meaning you will come, and we will be as we are… but with more food and better drinks.

I was sitting down for dinner at a restaurant with a friend when a young family caught my eye. They were sitting to my left and a little behind me, so it was difficult to take them in without being too obvious. But I was pretty sure the child, which the mom was holding like an infant, was a little large to be typically held that way.

Remember earlier this year when I wrote about enjoying a slower pace of life, but I knew I would eventually get bored? Hi, it’s me, I’m bored. No, that’s not true. I’m not so much bored as I am anxious. Anxious that I should be using this downtime more wisely. That I should be working toward some larger goal. And cue the 3am spiral where I question what in the world I am doing with my life.

This week I decided to hand my microphone to a dear friend of mine, Bakari Waziri Yusuph. Those of you who have read The Luckiest or followed me on socials for a while will remember that I got to know Bakari during my visits to Arusha, Tanzania. In fact, some of you may have even donated to support Bakari’s initiatives and businesses through various fundraisers I’ve posted for him. Well, now you get to hear from the man himself. It is my absolute honor to introduce you to one of the hardest working, deeply caring people I’ve gotten to know in my life.

The weather is warm and the kids are finally out of school – it must be summer! We kicked off the season by visiting my brother and his family in Omaha and taking in a College World Series baseball game. After three days, I left the Midwest with my heart full to bursting and already planning our return trip the following year.

The attached photo is from a much happier time in the Cervantes household - back when books were read, discussed, and you know, generally existed. Excuse me for a moment as I vent about the American education system, specifically the complete and total use of online materials for teaching.