2/27/09

The Defeat of Cyrus

This is the latest composition my 12 year old has produced using the Classical Writing curriculum.

The Defeat of Cyrus

After the Peloponnesian War, Darius II King of Persia died and his two son’s Artaxerxes and Cyrus began quarreling for dominion over the throne.

Eventually Artaxerxes took possession of the throne and became the new King via force, but Cyrus swore to continue seeking the throne, and then went about gathering his supporters in an effort to lead his army against his brother. But his Persian followers were inadequate in number, so Cyrus was forced to look elsewhere for aid in his ambitious quest against his brother. His attention then fell on Greece, land of the warrior race, of whom fighting prowess was renowned throughout the land. He hired 11,000 Greeks led by Clearchus, a Spartan general, to help him and marched on his brother.

They clashed at Cunaxa but Cyrus was slain and the Persians surrendered. The Greeks continued fighting bravely on against impossible odds until an exasperated Artaxerxes, having already defeated his brother's forces, prepared a message for the savage Greeks that the very man they had been fighting for was dead and there was no point in continuing to fight further. The message also stated that they all would be transported safely home back to Greece if they were only to stop fighting and comply with his request to lay down their arms. The tiring Greek soldiers readily agreed to this, and laying down their arms as proposed halted their fighting and began preparing for their home journey back to the native soil they so loved that lay a good eight-months march due west. Artaxerxes also grandly invited all the Greek officers, generals, and those in positions of power within the Greek army to a great council of the Generals, where all those on both sides, the Persians and the Greeks, who held militaristic power would meet and discuss matters of war. The Greek army commanders replied that they would be honored and hurried to the meeting where as the treacherous and scheming Persians awaited their arrival with grim hearts and sharp steel. As the Greek military commanders filed idly into the pavilion whereas the meeting was to be held, they were beset suddenly by an onslaught of flashing steel and whirling blades that deftly ended their surprise and replaced it with a sudden flash of excruciating pain, and then a cold numbness that was death.

The Greeks military infrastructure was then shattered and when the now leaderless Greeks received word of their leaders’ demise they despaired as of what to do. For, stranded as they were in a strange land without directions and lacking a single interpreter amongst them, or provisions and Persian currency, they were in a sense utterly helpless, stranded in the middle of a completely alien and possibly hostile environment. They had not but their armor and weapons that they had managed to retain and couldn't even manage a good night’s rest as they were constantly in danger being surprised by Artaxerxes men that were searching day and night for them. Besides it was all the more difficult to sleep with the multitudes of wretched men bewailing their plight, and the ever present knowledge that there was a good possibility that they may never see their home again, even if they managed to evade the ever present Persian search parties for a time.

But, they were in luck. A young man and former pupil of Socrates was amongst them, and as the others wandered aimlessly about their hurriedly constructed make-shift camp Xenophon plotted all the night and by the morn he had constructed a viable plan. Although not flawless, it was well worth attempting as they literally had nothing to lose, not even their freedom. The plan was if they were but to unite into a compact force and push steadfastly north they possibly would find themselves at the Black Sea.

2/21/09

Spring

So...it is nearly March. Winter has come and gone. I watched the leaves blaze then drop, crisp on the ground. I sat sorrowfully wondering why the sky was so blue, the heavens so bright when the world was dying.

Loss. I've felt too much of it this year.

There I was in Southern California. I'd fled the troubles from home. My mom in my sister's care, her memory gone. My dad so recently passed away stirring up memories I'd tried to run from all of my life.

I was a wimp, but I had run. And California was nothing I had expected it to be. From the winding little hills to the flame colored rooftops to the wonderous Pacific stretching on and on ...California was nothing I thought she was going to be. But I'd landed in Dana Point, and I think it may be quite different than LA, the city on the sea.

So...there I was. Enchanted. Dana Point had romanced me away from any desire to ever return to Texas.

Then I found the dratted lump.

On we came back to Texas. It was a rushed trip. We drove it in 2 days. My husband, myself and three kids. It was miserable and hard. My husband stayed a few days with me then left to go finish the job in California. It was the first week or so of October and he planned to be back by Thanksgiving. My support was gone. I don't think I've ever felt so alone in my life.

I lost my mom in December. While I was having mammograms at MD Anderson she lay there on her death bed slipping away. The lady giving me the mammogram must of thought I was a wimp for crying. I opened my mouth to try to tell her that yes it hurt, but I was crying because of my mom. The words would not come. Only more tears.

Oh, how I want that woman back. Whole in mind and body, as she was before this disease took her.

I lost my breast in January. I try not to complain. I try to keep my tears to myself. People look at me sometimes when I do and suggest that it COULD have been worse. I could have been eaten up with cancer. And I do feel...grateful. I'm glad that breast cancer isn't killing me. For that matter I'm glad the renal cell carcinoma that they found in my kidney almost 10 years ago didn't kill me either. But it isn't the same. I miss my breast. I've never missed my kidney.

So sometimes, like last night, when I am laying in bed, alone, thinking of how grateful I should feel...there is this little angry part of me that asks the Lord, "So what are you trying to say God, that you could have killed me but you didn't?"

I feel as if I've been threatened.

He did, in away, kill a part of me. I'm wounded. I feel deformed. I'm numb in a place that is supposed to be one of a woman's most sensitive places.

Loss.

And we won't even go into my oldest teenage boys ... both whom I've always been close to, always homeschooled...and now I'm watching both of them hold me down while they cut the apron strings. Bad timing and all that. I need them to draw close to me right now. I need their love to shield me from all this pain I feel...and they are pulling away.

Loss.

My world has been shaken. I'm nowhere near the place I was before I went to California in July. I keep thinking maybe if we pack up...carefully packing the same things we took before...drive back ...the same route, stay in the same Holiday Inns and in the same condo once we get there..that maybe I'll wake up..and all of this will have been a bad dream.

Spring is coming...

After my surgery, to cheer myself up I brought home a puppy. A little 5 week West Highland White Terrier. I named him Harry. Harry has to pee about ever 10 minutes. Harry gets taken out almost every 10 minutes. Ok..it is better now that he is 8 weeks old, but not much. We go out a lot but I can't seem to mind. I've had a chance to watch the frost on the ground under a bright full moon. I've listened to the early morning silence. I've gone out right after a rain, the clover looking like nature had come and dusted glitter all over. I've watched the trees bud and green. Swirling white clouds pink as the sun rose..and set.

And now I'm thinking of rebirth. It was all dead but now it is coming back to life.Soon now my teenagers will be mowing the lawn weekly. I have this incredible urge to plant a garden. I want roses and jasmine, gardenias and moon flowers.

Rebirth.

In May I'm scheduled for my 2nd surgery. This one to reconstruct, to recreate my breast. My plastic surgeon will take fat and skin from my abdomen and use it to make two new warm, jiggly breast. Will they be the same? Close probably. Will this nightmare be over? No, probably not. Though she claims to be able to reattach nerves to bring back some sensation, it is not to be complete sensation. I'll be able to feel hot and cold, but not much more. That part of me is gone forever.

But I'll look ok I guess. Maybe. If there are no complications. And if I look ok then everyone can happily go on with their lives and not worry about me anymore, because I'll have been 'fixed'.

And so I ask the Lord, "Ok...so you didn't kill me. But will you reattach my nerves? Make me whole again?"

The leaves some back, the grass comes back, the sun rises and sets every day and everything always is reborn.

But what about me?

Ugh. I complain too much I guess. I just need to be grateful, right? I'm working on it, I promise. Maybe my reconstruction will make it all ok. Maybe. Hopefully. If not...maybe I can talk my husband into moving to Southern California. Now THAT would be nice.