Meant to Be Read Free Page A

much money when she usually clips coupons and buys us practical gifts for Christmas? But I know I can't make too big of a deal about it—not without the risk of spoiling her fun anyway. And I don't want to do that.
    She emerges with a big grin, and I pretend like I have no idea what just transpired in there.
    We do a bit more shopping, but I can tell Mom's getting tired, so I ask her if she's ready to eat lunch yet.
    “Yes. Let's go to Rafael's.”
    “Rafael's? What? Did you win the lottery or something?”
    “Oh, Kimmy. It's okay to indulge ourselves occasionally.”
    “But you don't have to do this for—”
    “I want to, Kim. Can't you see that I'm having a good time? I just want to enjoy this day, sweetheart. Do you mind?”
    I shake my head. “Of course not. I'd love to go to Rafael's. I've heard it's awesome. But do you think we need reservations or anything?”
    “I doubt it. At least not during the day.”
    So we head back out to the parking lot, and I drive us over to the other side of the mall where you can only get into this restaurant from an outside entrance. “This is really cool, Mom.” I hold the door open for her.
    The restaurant has soft music playing and small tables with pristine white cloths, as well as candles and fresh flowers on each one. Very elegant.
    Soon we are seated, and I must admit that I'm feeling pretty special. I mean, diamond earrings and Rafael's all in one day. But even though this is fun, I can't help but feel that its all overshadowed by Mom's recent diagnosis. I'm certain we wouldn't be doing this if everything was just fine. And the truth is, I would gladly trade diamonds and Rafael's for “just fine” any day.
    After the waiter takes our orders, my mom tells me that she “wants to talk.” And I can tell by the way shesays this that this is somewhat serious. And suddenly I feel as if there's a brick in the pit of my stomach, and I doubt that I'll be able to eat a single bite.
    “Sure, Mom,” I say, trying to sound casual. “What about?”
    “About us.” She takes a sip of water. “I just want to set some things straight, Kim. Okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “I realize that you're worried about me and, well, the cancer. But I really wish that you could just push it out of your mind.”
    “Push it out of my mind?”
    She nods. “That's what I'm trying to do. I'm focusing on health and Wellness. I'm doing everything I can, and I want to just enjoy life. Whether I live to be a hundred or buy the farm next week. Can you understand that?”
    “Well, yeah, I guess.
    “And that's how I want you to live too. I don't want you to change anything because of me. Do you understand what I mean?”
    “I'm not sure.”
    “I want you to go about your life as if everything is normal, Kim. And for all we know, it is. Right?”
    I remember what Natalie told me about how I need to take the step of faith with my mom in order to encourage her. So I say, “Right.”
    “like you've been saying, Kim, God can heal me. Don't you believe that?”
    “Yes,” I say with a bit more enthusiasm. “I do believethat He can. And I'm praying, and lots of people are praying.”
    She smiles now. “See that's just what I mean. We need to believe that Gods in control of our lives and not to worry so much.”
    “I know…”
    “And I want you to make me a promise, Kim.”
    “What?”
    “Promise me that you'll keep doing all your normal things—whether it's spending time with Nat or your music or your column or even spending time with Matthew. Promise me that everything will continue to be ‘life as normal.’ Can you do that for me?”
    I slowly nod. “Okay.”
    “Because that's what will make me the most happy. Do you believe me?”
    I nod again, holding back tears. And I really do believe her. But for the first time I realize that I must have been bringing her down by moping around these past few weeks. I thought I was concealing it pretty well, but I guess she saw right through my little