The Road Ahead

Here is where procrastination gets you. This was originally supposed to be a post about miracles, and now it's become my Thanksgiving post.

But I guess the two aren't mutually exclusive.

So I'll start in a place where it seems I am every year now: grieving the lost California landscapes I've traveled so many times, mourning the people who have died in these most recent fires, holding onto hope for the missing, and giving thanks for all who escaped with their lives.

And though I didn't think there'd be anything political for me to be thankful for in post-Obama America, I am thankful for the true nature of my country as reflected in the diversity of peoples chosen for office in the midterm elections.

As always, I'm thankful for Larry and Aji and my friends both here and at home, and each day that brings an opportunity to meet new interesting  people.

I'm also thankful for the writing group I've found that keeps me accountable and inspired and encouraged me to make new commitments to myself. 

Fortunately and unfortunately, it means I'll be shifting my writing focus solely to my fiction, and this will be one of the last posts before I wrap up this blog.

But now we get back to the heart of my original post. To be more accurate, it’s an extension of my last post, which talked about the miracle of my father’s survival after his accident in late July.

When I visited him in the hospital in mid-August, he had only just regained full consciousness and the doctors weren’t sure if he’d be home for Christmas. He had been diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury and the only timeframe for recovery was to see where he was after a year.

At the time, that could only be described as “uncertain.” He was confused about where he was and why, and largely immobile due to the hardware reconstructing his hip and leg on his right side. The resulting combination left him understandably bored and frustrated.

When I visited him in the hospital again in mid-October, his progression was incredible. I don’t say that lightly. He had become a whiz at operating his wheelchair and transferring himself into and out of it, his short-term memory was remarkably better, and his cognitive function was nearly normal.

Earlier that week he’d been on an outing to the movies, and during my visit we took him out of the hospital for the day to eat at a favorite restaurant, visit a railroad museum that had been lingering on his list of local sights to see, and stop off for some hand-made ice cream.

When I left, his rehab team was starting him on a regimen to get him standing and strengthening himself to eventually leave the wheelchair behind. They hoped to release him from the hospital before Thanksgiving.

Flash forward to today. My father left the hospital just over a week ago, and is trying to settle into a new routine of being at home and continuing his therapy. He has sent me a few WhatsApp messages updating me on his progress...and asking for my Christmas wish list.

So my last message of thanks is pretty obvious, and my Christmas wish has already been fulfilled. In a month I'll be home with my family, enjoying every second and taking none of it for granted.

And those are the moments for which each of us can be grateful as we follow whatever path we have that lies in front of us.