There’s nothing to say today. The ocean is blue, the sky is blue, the flowers in the bush over my fence are blue. I’m blue. Even the dress I’m wearing is blue. I’ve been sick with this cold for five days, going to bed at 8pm, trying to shake it off, but still waking up in the middle of the night, dry mouthed and achy, full of nightmares that Rob is gone. I want to wake up in the morning and roll over. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. I want to wake up in the morning and roll over.

Well, maybe there’s more. I want to feel my feet on the ground, stretch my arms above my head. I want to take control of my day, of my life. I want to be alone when that feels good. I want to be among friends when that feels good. I want to walk through my house, something I have never done.

I want to pick my daughter up and spin her around the room. I want to show her how to stretch and how to do yoga poses. I want to run my fingers down her back and make her laugh.

I want to take the dog for a run. I want to walk and walk and walk so many miles until there’s nowhere left to go. I want to climb stairs. I want to try on clothes. I want to look down and see my calf muscles.

I want to play soccer. I want to take a full-entire-complete breath and hold it, without fear. I want to have a conversation with a stranger who isn’t wondering why I’m in a wheelchair, because I’m not in a wheelchair. Read More>