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Kim Moore


Kim Moore

I look around and see Mom wearing her t-shirt, just like we all have on. It’s the t-shirt
they give you as a participant of Race for the Cure: May 8, 2005; Twin Cities.
She has on khaki shorts, socks with white tennis shoes and pink laces and we’re
both smiling ear to ear, sunshine beaming on our faces. It’s a warm morning—for
the beginning of

women at race for the cure

Many of us are here for the same reason: just because. Just because we want to support this cause for a cure to breast cancer. My mom’s friend, Brenda, is a survivor. That’s just another reason why we’re here today. Her t-shirt says “Survivor.” There’s a big difference between why she’s here and why we’re here. “Ready, set, go!” The race has started! It’s not a real race, but that doesn’t matter. We’re just there to support everyone else. Here comes the tunnel…WHOO-HOO! Let’s hear it

women at race for cure

for the survivors! Oh my goodness…look at all of the people! Walking backwards isn’t something I normally do, but how couldn’t you, just to see everyone—the thousands of people here for the same reason.

Finish line…we did it! We walked the 5K “Race.” Brenda and Mom did it together. Again, all smiles from everyone around us, no matter if you’re there just because or if you’re a survivor.

women at race for cure

None of us were ready—none of those 6 people we walked with were ready—for 6 days later—May 13, 2005—what would happen—not to us—it couldn’t happen to us.


Me—at school, teaching first graders, phone rings—it’s mom. She’s always calling me at school for random things, so I pick up the phone, utterly Unprepared for what she is about to say.

“Kimberly, I found a lump last night. No, no, it will be ok. Yes, I’m sure it will be. Oh honey, you don’t need to cry. No you don’t need to come. Jean is taking me to see Barb. Yes, I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I know something.”

Me…on the other end of the conversation, sobbing undercover so my kids don’t see me, wondering what she is telling me. A WHAT? Oh, a lump. A LUMP? That happens to other people; not to us. Ok, I don’t need to leave school—my aunt is taking her to see our family doctor and family friend. I know she’ll be honest with my mom.

Now what?


In my purple v-neck tissue t-shirt and dark rinsed jeans, I run from my room, up to the office. What’s wrong? My mom found a lump. Yes, please go to my room. That’s right, I have my kids in there.

In the bathroom, sobbing…tears…ugh. I hear a knock. I don’t really want to talk to anyone. It’s my friend Jodi. She teaches just across the hall from the office. Someone has told her how upset I am.

“Are you ok? What happened? Oh, Kim. I’m so sorry. Well, she doesn’t know anything yet. Just wait to see what they say. I’m sure it’s nothing. She’ll be just fine. Don’t worry.”

Me…are you kidding? Didn’t you hear what I said? My mom found a lump. A LUMP. This happens to other people. Not to us. Yes, I can go back to my room. I’m fine. Things will be fine.

But they weren’t. Breast cancer isn’t ok.


Let’s go shopping.
For what?
Hats. I’m going to need a hat, you know.
I know.
Try this one on!
Mom, you know it won’t fit.
I know, that’s the fun of it!
The funny thing is, I can’t remember if Mom had her hair then or not.
Ok, this one has to fit.
It won’t!
Yes, it will. Just try it.
Ok…see! I told you it wouldn’t fit!
It didn’t matter what color the hats were, what they looked like that day. All that mattered was that it was she and I. That’s what happens when you’re the only child. You get to do everything with your mom because you’re the only one. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, fun or not, happy or sad…you do it all because you’re it, and you have to be there no matter what.


Pink is a color.
Pink is flowers.
Pink is frosting.
Pink is bubble gum.
Pink is little girls.
Pink is a beach pail.
Pink is a dress.
Pink is lipstick.
Pink is my mom.


I love Pink Parties. Pink is the color we wear. Pink is the color of survival. Pink is the color to inspire us. Pink is you, Mom. It is a time to forget about everything. We forget that there is this horrible, awful, ever-present, paralyzing, attacking, life-sucking disease surrounding us. We forget about chemo. We forget about surgery. We forget that there is more chemo to come.

happy family

This is the time before it gets bad again. This is the good time. This is a time with friends. With your daughter. With your son-in-law. With your husband. We laugh. We smile. We eat. We smile some more. We hug. We thank God for all He has given us. Cancer cannot get us down. We will not let it. It cannot get the best of us.


Mom, it’s me.

Hi honey!

I have something to tell you…we’re pregnant!


I know! Can you believe it?!

Oh honey, I’m so happy for you!

You’re going to be a grandma!

Finally, something happy to look forward to, something that will distract us from this long season we call cancer.


Stale room
Many people
Tubes hanging
Chemo dripping
Floor squeaking
Voices talking
Water drinking
Eyes sleeping
Nurses tending
Blankets covering
Family sitting
Friends holding
Time’s up
We’re done
Goodbye chemo
See ya


We did it! You did it! Surgery, check. Chemo, check, Radiation, check. We made it through. How did we do it? Support, that’s how. Support from everyone, no matter who they were. People who supported us just because. Just because…Meals brought and visitors came. How did we do it? Prayer, that’s how. Prayers said. Again and again and again.

So here we are, December 2005 and we say, “See ya cancer!” No turning back. No going back. No more doctors. No more any of that.

Moving ahead to grandbabies, cruising and life.

woman waving from cruise ship



It’s a circle; all encompassing

Diamonds and sapphire

A symbol of love

Of 20 years of marriage

A marriage that lasts

Good times and hard times…

…not bad times, just hard

Can’t wear it anymore

My thirtieth birthday

A small box-for me

From mom and dad

To pass on the love

And the symbol of life continuing