I have a friend that is here from Florida.
She was here during the worst of the worst.
She was here in the days of uncertainty.
She was here the first days I came home from the hospital.
She was the first person to push me over on the couch and tell me to get up.
The tone was set by her that believed I was only as weak as I chose to be.
Its been months since we last laid eyes on each other. We talked. We texted. We emailed.
But today was the first time she saw me put myself in the vehicle.
The first time she saw the movement in my leg and arm firsthand.
Today was the first time she saw a glimpse of the old me, not just the person they brought from the hospital.
When she has to pack up her kids, her laundry, her empty containers from Trader Joe’s, and has to head home, she’ll go.
And she knows that the next time we see each other, there will be changes to share as well. She’ll know at her center, she is partially responsible for the part of me that never stops trying.
I know she’ll come knock me down the minute I do.