One week later, everything has changed. Dad walked around his home with the aid of a walker today. He’s not coughing – he beat pneumonia, or whatever it was. He sat up with us for hours on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday morning. I left Monday noon thinking he was in okay shape.
He’s tired of being so disabled – he’s gone blind, among other problems – but he’s courageous and usually patient with his weakness. You don’t want to be around him when he’s exasperated.
So on Tuesday afternoon, after checking on the status in Mystic, I relaunched my plans for the trip. On Wednesday, my bed became Central Pack. It’s snowing, in the low 30s here; it will be in the low 80s in Savannah on Saturday and Sunday, so it’s a matter of taking layers.
I opened the maps. If I stretch my hand as wide as possible, I can touch New York City and Savannah.
It takes four handspans to reach San Francisco.
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