It’s been 365 days since I’ve heard my phone ring, opened a letter from a mailbox, owned a key to a door, hugged an old friend, driven a car. A year since I’ve held a job, gotten paid, sat in a favorite chair, seen my family, said hello to a neighbor, or cooked a meal for myself. Today is the one-year birthday of this trip. As the days have collected it’s become more and more difficult for me to reflect and sort through everything that has happened / is happening, how I feel, what to share, and how to talk about it here. It seems either absolutely simple, or overwhelmingly complex, one sentence or an entire novel.
