Wonder Woman Incarnate

By Starr Sackstein


I was nine when the doctors told her she had six months to live.

“I’m going to fight this the only way I know how,” my mother was resolute in her belief about beating breast cancer like it was some kind of terrorist taking over her body.

“But what if you…” I whined, big wet tears falling from my nose plopping themselves lifelessly onto my hands.

“Don’t even go there. I’m not going to die.” My mom put my hands in hers enveloping me wholly. She was the one who sick and she was still the strong one keeping me together.

“My mother battled cancer and won. Although her methods were unorthodox, she did it. Despite what the doctors told her. Even if I thought my mom was a superhero before, I was now convinced that she could survive anything.

“What is that stuff?” I peaked into the basement to see a curious science project before me. The room smelled of freshly cut grass and spring time. The florescent lights shined brightly in the usually dank room.

“It’s wheat grass. It’s going to help me stay healthy.” She had done her homework and found out that wheat grass helped to build antibodies and make her body stronger. It was her secret weapon; her antidote for the kryptonite festering her in body.

“What are you going to do with it?” Of course if she was going to heal herself, I wanted to know more, but I couldn’t imagine what she was going to do…bathe in it?

“I’m going to drink a cup of it every day and so are you.”

“Okay, if it will make you feel better, I guess I can try some.” She handed me a small cup and told me to have some. I drank it and almost threw up. However much I enjoyed the sweet smell of freshly cut grass, I did NOT enjoy the taste of it. It was gritty, grassy and gross. Green spinachy blades that itched my throat as they wandered down and then back up my esophagus. “Yuck. You’ve got to be kidding me. There is no way I’m drinking that on a regular basis.” I winced as I stared back at my mother, eyes tearing and still trying desperately to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not that bad. Next time we will try to mix it into something sweet so that it doesn’t taste so badly.”

“If you say so, but I don’t think anything can make that stuff taste good.” Little did my mom know that I never drank or ate any more wheat grass regardless of what it was steeped in. I ended up spitting it up or not drinking it at all for the whole wheat grass phase which luckily didn’t last that long.

The wheat grass wasn’t the only thing that changed in the house, my mom’s whole aura changed. She was now a metaphysical being of light only projecting health and warmth. Most of my friends didn’t get it and neither did I, but it was making her feel better so it wasn’t to be disputed.

“We have to be careful of our energies. The more positive light we cast, the better the universe will provide for each of us.” My mom looked at me seriously as she spewed what sounded like rubbish to me. It was ludicrous. How can someone be so “light” and how am I emitting an aura? I didn’t understand any of it, but what I could appreciate was that my mom was entering another phase. She had lots of them.

We went through the real estate phase, the gourmet chef phase (everyone enthusiastically enjoyed this one, and now lastly the new age phase. Ultimately my mom ventured back to school to become a massage therapist in her 30s never having been good at school before. She had always felt fortunate about surviving the cancer and she wanted to help others feel better too. So my mom braved going back to school despite her own fears in an effort to help save the world. Luckily she had me to help. I figured she had done so much for me that the least I could do is teach her how to study and so I did.

“Mom, focus. You have a test tomorrow and you are going to fail if you don’t study.” I was firm, but loving just as she had always been.

“I still don’t get it though and I can’t remember anything,” frustrated she stared at me longingly. “Take the test for me,” she smiled because she knew I would never go for that.

“You can do this. You’ve done everything else and stop comparing yourself to me,” I sneered at her forcing a lack of comparison. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want to take over.

Graduating from massage school was just the beginning of my mother’s successes in this field. She works with cancer patients, autistic children and people with just plain aches and pains. No problem is impossible for her to attend to. My mother has taught me to be strong and independent, yet unafraid to reach out for help when necessary. Strong and seemingly fearless she has led by example and teaching me what it takes to be worthy of admiration. As a parent, teacher and friend, I can only aspire to her quirky, warm ways to make the world a better place.