This year I resolve to have fewer strokes.

Sometimes I think it was a bigger deal for those around me than it was for me.  Brushes with mortality are.

On a camping trip we played hide and seek in the night rain. I jumped over a low stone fence. Next thing I knew I was hanging over a fast river. My friends pulled me up. There was am-I- dying? Then I was not.

There was that headache and teetering, hands guide my way like some toddler cruising furniture just to get to the phone. There was am-I- dying? And then I was not… Just foolish direction tangent to my desire.

It was a big deal. At this year’s end there are new faces. There are also some who did that mortal coil shuffle. Dances.

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