I remember crying softly, salty tears streaming down my face,
She held me close and kissed the tears, my pain trying to erase.
She said she’d always be there for life’s challenges, pains, and bumps,
‘Twas a promise that she vowed to keep even after they found the lump.

A doctor’s visit brought the news, the quiet whispers mixed with fear.
She resolutely said this route I choose; I plan to live for many years.
Though my brow was creased with worry, she decided I must be told,
“Too old for bedtime stories, yet still young enough to hold.”

I climb into her bed, a book clutched between my hands.
“Like your book, cancer’s a mystery that we try to understand.”
As she finished, sad eyes smiling, she hugged with all her might,
“Do not worry my precious girl -- your mom has never lost a fight.”

An epic battle waged that year, her body changed a lot,
But inside my mother stayed the same . . .

Cancer did not know with whom it fought.