I feel like I'm walking out of the ocean lately. You know that feeling when you're walking into increasingly shallow water. When all of a sudden you can move your arms without resistance. Then parts of your torso. Then you're only dragging the bottoms of your legs through the water. Then all of a sudden you can run.

[And for the sake of feeling hopeful I'm going to ignore the part where you end up walking in sand that makes it hard to move.]

My brain is coming out of this feeling of dragging along the closer and closer we get to the 1 year anniversary of Eliot's diagnosis.

I keep remembering different things about his time in the hospital like how much I wondered about the students I could see out of the hospital windows and how bitchy the guy was at the nurses station. And what it was like on Christmas to walk into the family lounge and see and smell people from at least 3 different nationalities celebrate Christmas.

Tonight this question popped to the front of my brain. What was the last thing I blogged before Eliot's diagnosis.

Here it is. And I put this one up the same day. Goodness. Tampons and finger puppets. I guess that's what you do before chaos blows your life into a million shiny and unrecognizable pieces.