Three months ago today I fell face first down the stairs that connect the first and second floors of my house. I’m happy — and grateful — to say that apart from some nagging discomfort in my left hand, I’m completely over the ordeal. I do, however, pay very close attention to handrails these days.
To be clear, my life didn’t flash before my eyes, nor was there any sort of spiritual or philosophical awakening as a result of my misadventure. I’ve always been acutely aware of how finite my life is, as well as how seemingly infinite are the obstacles to said life.
Therefore I cherish even the howling winter wind — or rather that I’m able to hear it and complain about it.