Dysfunction of the Labyrinth

What a difference a few days makes, the severity of the vertigo attack passing with each moment, slip sliding away, fading into the memory.  Do not forget the panic, the spinning, the cold sweats, the lying on this couch of old for the vitals, the paramedics, the fear, the relief.  The sensation of motion where there is none.  I wonder if/when again, still, but no matter.  The infection, or pinched nerve, or whatever is was, must be healing itself.  The labyrinth of the vestibular leading who knows where.  Treat it as the wake-up call instead.  The physical lined up to be taken, the preparations for Mirriam’s arrival.  The expensive once-in-a-lifetime framing.  The AfriKona with its ridiculous undercoating and paint protection ready to serve as the shuttle to the cottage.  

What a difference a year makes, cycling through pictures of one year ago, before Zanzibar and Lusaka Civic Centre and Sandy’s and Royal and PR and Misty and the TRV.  A majestic year of accomplishments that could not have been achieved absent the unique and overwhelming circumstances.  We now look to what is next.  Summer.  Alobar?  Wonderland?

I wonder...