Boys with hats

My hats were once so important to me. Now they are scattered all over the floor of my bedroom closet. Once my daily camouflage for what cancer had done to me, my hats are now toys. Joey and Danny play with them and toss them around and wear them — sometimes one at a time and sometimes they pile as many as they can on top of their little blond heads. The hats hold no real significance to them — they are just playthings and while Joey can recall that I wore them at one time, the emotion wrapped up in the pale blue sleep cap and the black Nike ballcap and the yellow bucket hat is lost on him. I consider this a blessing — that one day, he and Danny will likely have very little memory of this cancer adventure and that they may...

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