The scariest thing about this Halloween is that three years ago today, I was lying in a New England Rehab bed with a divot in my head and underwear on the outside of my pants:
|Where did my legs go?|
I've also, frighteningly, been contemplating The Ghost of Christ Complex Past. I spend a fair amount of time perusing my blog stats -- 43,000 hits and counting! Despite the fact that an inordinate amount of my traffic seems to come from Ukrainian spam bots, I often take note of my most-visited entries and try to figure out if they're being looked at by human or machine. For whatever reason, this week's winner was my Famous last words. It's powerful for me to read now, knowing it was the last time I typed with two hands, feeling somewhat sorry for the poor slob who didn't quite know what he was in for, and wondering if I've been able to live up to that specter's ambitiously-courageous wishes.
Speaking of my own haunting, I'm reminded of July 2010, a day or two after my cerebral angiogram, when we took a family outing to Tassel Top beach. After having a catheter threaded from my groin to my neck, I was feeling somewhat hobbled (little did I know what hobbled was) and generally distraught about what the future held. I remember taking a short stroll by myself, on a boardwalk through the woods, peering through a spinney of thin trees at Jamie and the boys on the beach; and imagining that I was doing so from The Great Beyond. It was very peaceful and somewhat comforting (thinking I'd be able to watch over them), which is why I remember it still. The brain stores memories in odd places.