Light the Night

Light the Night is a much bigger production than the Lymphomathon - live music and a VIP tent with alcohol and other luxuries, they had a seemingly endless supply of food (pizza) to give away, other free things, there were far more people, and of course - our light up balloons. Carriers of red balloons were supporters, carriers of white were survivors, and carriers of gold carried them in memory of someone lost.

The walk was a nice 2 miles out of Grant Park towards Roosevelt, through the museum campus, along the lakefront (with a beautiful teal skyline view). We had a militia of 20 for the walk, all looking beautiful in our bright purple shirts.

Saturday began early, it was moving day for my cat and I. Brendan and Dad were the heavy lifters, carrying and maneuvering the bulk of my furniture through narrow doorways, hallways, and elevators. Only once, while doing a final scan of the apartment we were leaving, did I see Brendan stop and close his eyes for a moment, swallow hard, and breath in deeply. He responded to our concern with nonchalance - that he was fine.
We arrived in Grant Park, on the corner of Columbus and Balbo a little after 5:30 and it was already crowded with plenty of people, and there were no tables to be found. We registered quickly, got our balloons and shirts, made a sign, and eventually located a spot to set up camp with a handful of chairs. Brendan, Dad, and I tossed a football around before the team started to show up - Brendan throwing it in perfect spirals long distances to my awkward dog-bitten hand. I dropped 98% of the passes. To add to my display of athletic prowess, I proceeded to throw the ball back with a wobbling, warbling clumsiness.

The walk started at 7, and we spent the first few minutes of it fighting to keep our respective balloons up, shining brightly, and not bumping in to heads and other balloons. Then onward through the night we traveled.
There was a team that ended up just in front of us at the end of the walk, and who had set up camp near ours before. Their shirts carried the name of their hero, and two dates - the most recent being 9/3/10. They carried gold balloons.
"I never want to carry that gold balloon." I said staring ahead at the cluster of them in front of me.
I don't, and there is a part of me that actually believes I will never have to - because Brendan just carried my couch and my bed and my tables and bikes and heavy boxes...twice. Because Brendan, while carrying a white balloon, refused all other identifying offerings that he has cancer. Because Lymphoma is something that Brendan will be able to beat the way he beats a cold. Because I cannot begin to imagine...

We ended the night in a circle around a fire built in Dad's yard. Smores were made, drinks were had, dogs were mingling, and we were being so very loud and laughing so very hard and making a ruckus until roughly 1:30am on a perfect autumn night. This morning, I can still smell the fire in my hair.

Thank you to everyone who walked, who donated, and who loved and laughed with us all night.