I crowded into New York Penn Station. Then, 20 minutes later I marched to track 8. I limped down to almost the last car of the train and climbed inside. There were no seats so I stood. And, I stood for 35 minutes until the train finally left. By then my feet were numb, my knees were weak, and the area across my lower back was burning. I was worn out. However, my journey home had just begun.

I made it to the light rail where there was another fifteen minute wait. Ten minutes later, I reached my stop.

Icy stairs greeted me at Warren Street. So I held on and leaned on my cane until I made it to sidewalk which was covered in a sheet of ice. I weaved in between cars stopped in a traffic jam. I slipped, slid, twisted like a pretzel and stumbled the two blocks home.

I finally let my guard down at my complex. And, that was a mistake. I tumbled into the bush near my house while trying to move snow. Luckily, my neighbor helped me out and she finished clearing off my stairs. I was a little bruised but glad that for the first time in days I wasn’t worried about my surgeries, the death of a distant relative, the results of a crucial medical exam and upcoming cancer surgery for a close relative, or anything else. The snow had purified my mind, at least for a while.

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