I spotted two young girls at a crosswalk waiting to cross the street. Their body language told me they were waiting for their opportunity to out-dash a car.

Their bodies were arched, their knees bent and their heads lowered. I slowed down so they could cross.

This main street I drive (in San Francisco) is pretty much 30mph throughout. In California, whether there is a light or not, white stripes, not necessarily at intersections, signify drivers are expected to stop for any pedestrians that choose to cross at any given time.

The two girls were around 18, smiling and holding hands. When I stopped they darted across the walkway and giggled as though they had some secret to life. I watched as they skipped across the street and the corners of my eyes began to dampen.

I sobbed. I miss it. So much.  My eyes began to well up and my water covered eyes could only catch glimpses of the sun. 

No matter how "ok" I may feel and know that my condition is not the "end of the world" or that it is not THE limiting factor of my life and/or what I can do, I think you never get over the loss of something as fundamental as running or walking, or if you are further progressed, function in your fingers or hands.

This is particularly so when this loss is constantly happening.  At every stage of loss there is a new process of adapting and understanding.  It is a constant journey and sometimes this lamenting of loss pops up without warning. I miss "you".  At that crosswalk, for a second and for the first time, I suddenly didn't know who I was. 

"How did this happen?"

I don't know this body and my outside doesn't feel like my inside.  I don't remember you and I want "you" back so bad.  As much as I/we are aware that we are more than this body I don't think anyone can help missing it and I don't think anything is wrong with missing what you've "lost" as long as it doesn't take over your life.  

I am not tied to it or feel less than because of it, and I continue my life despite it, and sometimes because of it BUT with every part of myself, I still miss "you". So very much.

I came home from my afternoon drive and walked the very lengthy (136 steps) from my car to my door and peeped through the window. There she was wagging her tail patiently waiting for me to open the door. I smiled at my Pippi...and then I was fine.

I love her innocence and her view of the world.  All she wants is to be loved. When Jason and I adopted Pippi from the shelter I don't think we necessarily thought it was for companionship or affection.  We both grew up around dogs and we thought rescuing a little one would be a good thing.

I love seeing life through her eyes. She is one of the few constants in my life.