Back at the family home, life is low key and precious at the same time. There's an awareness that life is moving on, and some day, spending a day walking to to the supermarket, or sitting chatting with my parents won't be an option. Partly because of the accident, I'm more alert to risks and see more danger in everyday activity. Partly because they are more concious of the passing of time, wondering when they do something significant (or perhaps not), if if will be the last time.
Reflective, I suppose. Certainly less fraught than the last time I was here, straight after surgery. Going upstairs or downstairs isn't so exhausting that once a day is enough.
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