Last night I lie awake in bed, remembering one year ago, when I slept easily (and drugged!) in Duane and Shirley Enquist's home in Fort Collins, CO, recovering from my accident.
While I recovered fully, and suffered only minor abrasions (there's that word!), the Possibility of Worse weighs anew in my mind. I thank God everyday for the location of that rock, that boulder, that kept me from sliding further down the mountain, and I try to be thankful for the guardrail. (I still experience anxiety everytime I see one while biking.) I am thankful for my friends on the trip, for Kevin, for Rich, for the construction worker who drove Matt and I to meet an ambulance.
I am grateful to be alive today, on year later, but really... I am stunned. I am grateful for the rock.