Its cold here today ,but clear, and if you didn’t look at a calendar, you might just think it spring, not summer. But of course I looked at a calendar, just to make sure my guess was correct. Sometimes I worry that I won’t realize time has passed once summer comes again. How will I know that I’ve been away so long? How will I begin to guess that?

Its crazy how different my days can be. Some days I can be sitting on the porch, laughing and drinking tea and a stranger wouldn’t know I was sick. Or some days I can be sitting in a cafe, in my wheelchair, but still, you’d be hard pressed to know what was wrong with me. Some days I can think real clear and some days its hard to talk. Sometimes I the day ends with me lying on the floor of the bathroom, knocked cold from falling and hitting the counter. Days can end with confusion and tears or laughter and pensive thinking. How is it fair that the days can end up so different? I’d rather take an average of the good days and the bad ones and then have okay days for awhile. Its just worse to have something and loose it, you know? But I suppose that one could argue that it is better to live for a day, than never live at all. Its hard to feel so erratically different from one day to the next. Its aggravating, let me tell you.

At least I’m at the lake though. I think there must be something to the logic that when you are surrounded by something so beautiful and clean and fresh, some of that goodness has gotta rub of eventually.

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