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On my way home today, I was stopped at a green light, waiting for all the oncoming traffic to go past before I turned left, and the last two vehicles were two motorycles. As the first of them started to go past, he turned his head to look at me, and in his narrowed eyes I saw the same wariness and vulnerability I’ve had everytime I’ve passed an unpredictable left-turning vehicle. Just for a moment I saw myself in him, and realized how much I’m missing.

The good news is that I’m on the mend and able to drive, restoring a huge portion of normalcy back to my life. But life seems so much hollower. I had my whole summer planned out, and now I’ve got nothing but week upon week of therapy and doctor’s appointments to look forward to as my hands and leg slowly heal and I am deemed fit again to get back onto my two wheels.

It could have been worse, I know, but it’s bad enough at times.