Last night, I had just a little trouble sleeping. Not the sort of trouble that is horrible, just enough to make you aware that you are having trouble sleeping. Bad dreams, probably. As I lay in bed, I would try rolling over onto my broken side, my broken shoulder finding better angles, my ribs deciding to seemingely protrude less, I thought about what now gave me pleasure in life. The list was not as long as it used to be.
I have lost much of my pride. I don't walk with the same confidence that I used to, but there is something else. At the gym yesterday, I saw all the young, strong bucks lifting heavy weights to thicken their growing muscles from my post on the treadmill. After a lifetime of it, I didn't care. Are they tough? Step in front of a truck and find out. That is what I have now.
So the fun stuff in life no longer based in superior athleticism. Nor looks, I guess. So what made the short list? Communication, written and visual. That seemed to top the nighttime list.
The day was gray. I communicated nothing. I may, someday.
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