I’ve been lucky.  So very lucky I hardly know what to do with myself.

Most people won’t skate on the edge of death and come back to write blog posts about it.

Some will circle the drain, but not everyone has a family that will fight to keep you afloat.

Friends are great, having every person you ever met, plus some you didn’t plan on, is beyond every dream you ever had.  That’s just online.

I mean. Friends. FRIENDS. friends.

Do you take the time to feel lucky for the people you know?

I have been so stinkin’ lucky with this stroke.

The friends that are practically sisters.

The sister that’s now a best friend.

Buddies that have graduated to lifelines.

Casual acquaintances that became valued bonds.

Strangers DID become friends.

I may never have the chance to feel this way again.

Grateful.  Thankful.  Blessed.  Absolute Faith.

Befriended.

I take a step carefully, with my walker always guided before me.

Hands are able to ensure my safety.

They’re full of needed strength and necessary love.

The voice is harsh as it barks it’s orders to walk, straighten the knee, or transfer the weight.

The same voice is soft, the lips are sweet as they brush a kiss of congratulations across my sweaty brow.

I take a deep breath and rest because I know that soon we’ll start again.

The mean and harsh every bit about love.

Same as the lovey sweetness.

Maybe more.

In the mornings I have learned to get myself out of bed.

From there I wheel myself over to find clothes for the day.

One arm in, the second arm in, and then I stick my head through….shirt on.

One leg in, the second leg struggled but in….and what.

The pants are undone and I have to wake up my husband to help me.

“Honey, please get up.” On this weekend day you don’t want to get up, you really want to just roll over and sleep in.

He wakes up.

I sit patiently with my pants still undone and only pulled to my knees while he stretches and scratches.

Then he stands close so I can stand up.  He does all the buttons and zippers while I’m up.

Then we hug.

For the only time that’s convenient, we press close.

Me with one leg on the floor, and him with his two we can hug for those precious seconds like nothing is wrong.

Then I go back to the wheelchair.

To reality.

People will ask what my motivation was for getting better.

I wanted to get out of the hospital for sure.

Walking again has always been something I tried to do.

But mostly, the number one thing has always been my kids.

The kids that make me laugh.

The kids that make me try one more time.

The kids that never allow me to give up.

The kids that love me regardless of my weaknesses.

The kids that are incredible.  That mean so much.  That are my whole world.

You ask what motivates me.

Stupid question, really.