For once, there are too many things to be said instead of too few. Things happening inside me, things I want, things I need, things I hate. The flowers that I picked at Green Bluff, which were so beautiful and full of life last night, are drooping sadly this morning; but in their death, they smell sweeter than ever, and I am adrift. My mother will be coming to town soon, a small package I owe to someone I don’t even know but who has blessed my life, and this week there is the beginning of another round of physical therapy and a trip to the anesthesiologist to see if there is anything, anything at all, that medical science can do to return me to a normal life, and I am afraid that it will fail. And I am keenly aware that there is, at most, perhaps 5 people out there who will even read this, but still… Wait for me.