3 January — Odin’s 9th birthday: I vaguely recall he crawled up on the bed for a hug. Very, very vaguely. He handled this all incredibly well. My memory of conversations from this particular day is now little more than dream-like; no organization or substance. No order or details. I’m told I was “awake” for… Continue reading
1st of January, thumbing through a woodworker magazine. Don’t be fooled—the lights are on but nobody’s home: or, put another way: I’ve no memory of that magazine or flipping its pages. In fact, my memory, I’m told, was only a few minutes long. They extubated me just a few days prior.