Delete

My Edited Day:

Joe picked me up at work and when we got home we headed straight out. There were things we needed to do and we knew if we sat down even for a moment, in the front room, all bets were off about accomplishing anything. So, out we went. As we wandered getting first one thing, then another and finally the final thing done, we both started feeling better. It was nice to be out. It felt good to get some basic chores done and things accomplished.

Of the many paths home, we chose the one that was quickest. Nice to be out. Nice to have things done. On the last leg of the trip, I always race ahead of Joe, push my chair to it's full speed, and enjoy a brief moment of riding just for fun, not constrained by walking speed. As I was going down the road a cyclist, heading the other way, on the other side, veered over to where I was. He was smiling, his greeting was friendly.

"Hey, he said.

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... met Joe at the door. Joe asked me about why the cyclist came over to me, what did he say. I told him that I had deleted that conversation. If my computer can delete, I'm going to too. I could see that Joe was curious but he was respectful. I didn't want to bring a conversation foisted upon me indoors, I didn't want it to enter my head or my heart or my day.

I have to do this far too often.

Far.

Far.

Too often.

There are days where the most courageous thing I do, is simply go out.