Today, I sit in the waiting room of Mount Sinai Hospital, NYC glancing at the lighted board reminiscent of airport Departure times. This surgery is for getting Yuri’s voice back.

Coming to someone's rescue comes naturally to me. When Yuri, finally awake from his long springtime nap, wanted to get out of the hospital so desperately despite having atrophied muscles and a body attached to a roomful of machines and linked in tubes, I conspired along with him to enable his escape.

This medical ordeal aged us– physically, mentally, and emotionally. To find our way out of this Wilderness, we go to our favorite place for peace and solace and take a dip in the cold, clear water.

A beautiful day– clear, blue skies. We remember 9/11 vividly despite being hundreds of miles and worlds away from one another’s sympathies.

It’s been the most unsettling time as I fell into the rabbit hole of primary caregiver during an intensive, and in those early weeks, an extremely dire situation that lasted for what seemed like an eternity