In my continued quest to become a real, normally functioning human again, I'm pushing ahead with my physical therapy. I've said before that I have a fear of stopping this therapy. I fear that if I'm left to continue on my own, the pain will come back. I know this isn't realistic and that I really will be ready, physically, when the time comes to stop. But, I don't want to. Even when it has hurt and it has sucked, I've looked forward to going because I believe that at least one person in the room knows what the hell he's doing.

I’m scared to cross the street. I never thought I’d say something like that as an adult. But, there it is: when the light turns green and the “walk” signal is illuminated, I wince. I hesitate. I ultimately will my body to move across the lanes of traffic, almost running toward the opposite curb. But, getting hit by a truck hurts and it hurts for a long time.

Last weekend, I was honored to be welcomed as a guest into the home of  an old college friend. I'm a southern girl and not well-traveled enough to have seen the Pacific Northwest. It was breathtaking. I've never seen colors like those on the trees (and, truthfully, I've never seen so many of those damn Coexist bumper stickers, either). I'm not yet to the point where I can talk about the perfect beauty of the land or the perfect beauty of a lifelong friendship without getting misty eyed.... So, I'll just share a little bit of what I saw and hope that you can feel just a little bit of what I felt.