Some Heroes Wear Back Packs, Not Capes




As the grandchildren and I were making Christmas cookies, I suffered a stroke.  Turns out I was in great hands.  My grandchildren were well-trained in emergencies,  

Zoie calmly phoned 9-1-1 and gave the address like a pro, not a small child. Toby gathered our dog and put it in the kennel. All children should be able to provide their address and the type of emergency.

And this began my 16-plus months of attempting to go home.

If my two little heroes had not helped me, I might not be here.

So when I say my favorite heroes don't wear capes, I mean they wear book bags instead.


These two are waiting for me to come home.  I have missed so much.  I have missed church, dance recitals, learning to ride their new bikes, new dresses, playing outside, our dog had to be re-homed, the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.  I have missed
 Special Olympics and coaching my little teams to victory, and going to the movies.
I have spent days on bikes and in physical therapy.
Waiting for the moment I can go home.  I am beginning to think it will never happen.  Finding an affordable apartment as a disabled senior adult is nearly impossible.  With wait times in Harlem and Augusta being 6 months -2 years and 5 years just to make the application.  It seems hopeless. 
In the meantime, I am considering other options.  like small homes, yurts, and even shed homes.  But one way or another, I need to get my own space again before I lose my mind.  I have stayed here for too long, I want to be back to some form of work and working toward my future again. 
Thank you for your reading, and if you can donate to my fundraiser at GoFundMe.comhttps://www.gofundme.com/u/ce6789ef-eab1-4514-b696-eaf5d3fe48d2?cdn-cache=0















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