Travel

Last night I had this wild, vivid dream. I was on a school bus in the middle of winter, snow coming down thick and heavy, when four four-wheelers came out of nowhere, flying ahead of the bus and cutting us off. They forced us down a hill and straight into a frozen pond. The bus started flooding fast. I managed to get out, but I was still in my wheelchair, sinking, water rising around me. I clung to the edge of the pond for dear life, struggling to breathe, until I finally got my seatbelt undone. I tried holding on, but without being able to kick, I started slipping under. Just before I went under for good, someone reached down, grabbed me, and pulled me up... saved me.

Then the dream jumped ahead. I was in the back office of an old hotel I used to work at, talking with my old management team, telling them the story. I was showing them photos of all the travels we'd gone on since that close call. You weren’t in the bus that day, but every picture after, the traveling, the adventures, it was you and me. I told them how, after almost dying, I made it my mission to rebuild and to work until I could travel again. I was so damn proud of that accomplishment that when I woke up, it felt real. Like it had actually happened.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe that dream was more than that. Maybe it’s a reminder of what’s still possible. So from here on out, that’s the goal: build the strength and courage to travel again. That means adding muscle, studying accessibility tips, finding places we can go that actually work with a chair, going on shorter trips out around town or surrounding areas even if (especially if) it's scary, maybe even considering a colostomy bag if it helps make longer trips possible and dropping weight to get into a manual chair.

We will travel again. One way or another.

I love you.

-raccoon