in with the old

I’m sitting in the room I grew up in. We moved here when I was six. On the end of my bed is a quilt my grandmom made for me with the state of Texas sewn over large squares of white. Sunlight comes in through a window, and in the patch of backyard outside the window I remember sitting and building a fence with my dad while our new Siberian Husky puppy, Misha, ran through the yard and into my eight year-old lap. I won’t be in this house long. It’s been a month, and at the most I’m anticipating…

three days and then america

In three days I’m flying back to the US for the first time since late May 2009.  I know I said that there was nothing wrong with my knee, but that’s only because I was told there was nothing wrong with my knee.  But after my MRI results were sent to PC Headquarters, the sleuths there found a rip in the old meniscus and have ordered me to Washington, D.C., for surgery.  I found out only a couple of days ago, and since then I’ve pretty much been walking in circles mumbling, “oh lord oh jesus”, while ideas of what…