|Click to enlarge me...|
Take the tiny marigold poking proudly out of its cold, cracked sidewalk.
And this morning, in the midst of my 4-hour leg-fitting ordeal, friends Susan and Rocco called. They insisted on brunch at the Oregon Diner even though I SWORE I’d be miserable. (I wasn’t.)
Wheelchair-bound, my phantom sensations roamed restlessly. My toes felt squished underneath me; my leg was on fire. Stomach pains clenched at any moment. Anxiety reigned supreme.
Tonight on the way to buy groceries, my mom and I passed what I can only believe was one last SIGN: