When your husband grabbed the Seahawks flag from outside your front door
and ran down the street with it, blue and green streaming behind him,

you wept.

Because your team just won, just came back from behind,
and at the last possible moment,

they triumphed.

As I watched you, watching your husband take a lap around the block,
I knew the cancer was growing inside you, that your chances of survival,

were slim.

You knew this, you weren’t only crying with amazement for your team.
You glimpsed the possibility, impossible though it was,
that your body could do something miraculous
in the last moments of the game.