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I am a transplant to California soil. Born in the snowy dead of winter in Milwaukee, I was not yet two years old when my parents left these icy winters for warmer California ones. Having lived in southern California all my life has given me the opportunity to take many things for granted. We in Southern California take the weather for granted. When my mother-in-law calls from Iowa, eagerly asking, “How’s your weather?” I nonchalantly answer, “the same.” I have to look hard to find subtle changes in the seasons, for autumn transforms gracefully into winter, effortlessly and almost indistinguishably. Our moderate climate affords us comfort most of the year so that we do not confront the elements as a daily part of living.
We also take for granted the terrain. In my suburban community we are privileged to be an hour’s drive from the California coastline and the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean. In summer we relax at the beach as the sun glistens over undulating indigo waves. In winter we can drive an hour to the mountains, vacationing in log cabins nestled among snow-covered evergreens. Atop a ski lift, we fend off the frosty bite of wind that reddens our cheeks and waters our eyes. It is the closest we come to braving the harsh elements of winter, and we experience them in comfortingly small increments. We feel our seasons in moderation.
This comfortable California lifestyle, ironically agitated by the hectic school and sports activities of my busy daughters, Katie and Kara, fostered in me a feeling of complaisance even about my health. Although my mother Elvera had been diagnosed with breast cancer twenty-five years before and is today a survivor, I didn’t think much about breast cancer. I was responsible to take my annual clinical exams and mammograms each year, but then I carried on in life, thinking as little about cancer as I did about the weather. In the weeks after my diagnosis, I experienced a heightened awareness of the world around me and my place in it. The colors in my life changed vividly and I found myself taking nothing for granted.
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Mary Petersen is born
on December 11th, 1953,
in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
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This transformation is perhaps the most profound change I encountered as a result of surviving breast cancer. I well up with gratitude for my health and for my community of loved ones whose companionship I savor and depend on. I pay attention to the world, observing its oddities and eccentricities, grateful to be a part of it despite its tragedies. I marvel at the unconscious mysteries of dreams whose imagery allows me to peek inside myself. I try to leave the door open for serendipity.
Now I am eager to carry on with the adventure of living life. Having taught high school for twenty years, I have recently embarked upon a new career of teaching college writing and offering pœtry workshops for teachers. With the support of my husband Ron and my family, I want to continue to write, travel, and tend to my garden. I’ve discovered that life is uncharted territory, so I forge a path and delight in the travelers I meet along the way.
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