I can stand again. I find myself somewhat ashamed for resenting the debilitating circumstance of being confined to a wheelchair for all but brief moments. I am still in pain, but the worst is clearly behind me. I can make my way with a cane, it is still an effort and my left leg shall likely annoy me somewhat for another week, but it is good to be amongst the motile once again. I know there are many more for whom such injuries are not so easily set aside.

A further indication of my returning health: I am suddenly acutely aware that this city is a college town. Of beef and liquor I have had plenty since leaving the hospital. Now other appetites do call for my attention. They will have to wait, however, for I am returning home to Pennsylvania for Christmas. I am sufficiently whole to appear there without requiring cumbersome explanations, and over the last week I have lost just a tiny bit of the trepidation I felt.

Still, I am one to prepare against need, particularly having been recently caught unawares. For instance, I managed to obtain a firearm (do not ask how) so that I have some measure of extra security. I am usually a fan of automatic pistols, but this revolver seems to suit me well, being small handled and easily concealed while still offering decent stopping power. It turned out to be a fortuitous acquisition, given the events of this past evening.

I have been ?mugged’ before, with varying results. I am disinclined to yield to the demands of society’s bottom-feeders, but I am no fool. In this case it was a relatively feeble attempt and the pistol put a stop to it quite handily. That and the broken knee and shattered teeth of two of the would-be highwaymen. My companion was somewhat flustered, but it was all of a minor inconvenience in the end. For myself, that is.

As to other precautions I have taken, let us simply say that I may now disappear at need far more efficiently than at any time previous.

I missed Thanksgiving with the family, but by all accounts it went quite well. Those old enough to remember the house when it was still in regular use were suitably impressed. Those who had heard only tales of its former glory were similarly given pause as they came to understand the tales they had been regaled with by their elders were not simple nostalgia, but honest fact. That in itself was enough to provide satisfaction, but still I wish I had been there. Jeremy had no direct descendants- I find myself curious about those descended from the children I helped raise.

I find myself eager for Christmas.

Posted on December 22nd, 2004 by Zsallia
Filed under: The Present