It’s glorious to be home.  Springtime in the Rockies, complete with a running brook in the backyard, thawed and muddy trails up the hill, and daffodils emerging in the gardens, renders any problem as ephemeral as melting snow.  Today I don’t think my brain is damaged after all.  Today I am eating French toast and putting early Joni Mitchell on the turntable.  Today Kaisha and I went up to the Mesa Trail and hiked for an hour under a cloudless sky.  Today I took a delicious nap and watched reality TV with Marcus.  Today I lay in the afternoon sun with my two hedonistic felines.  Today I cooked roast chicken in white wine and ate it with my wife and son.  Today I am writing these words in my own cozy study, in my own cozy house.  Today I am home, happy, and through with feeling the fraught future of my condition.  It will come, of course.  It will take whatever course it takes.  But I will remain in this blessed life, among my loving family, pets, trails, trees, work, writing, films, books, music, self.   Of course some things will be lost.  Life is loss, and gain.  I am ready to re-focus on the gain, not the least of which is that I feel deeply cared for, and in very good hands.