A few days ago, I caught myself whining internally about walking to the mailbox.
For most people, that simply involves walking down a short, level, paved, surface.
The driveway to the Fountain house is little more than a parallel set of gravel tire trails through a rough Ozark landscape. From front door to mailbox is approximately half a mile.
Mentally slapping myself from the negative, lazy attitude, I remembered how thankful I am to be walking at all.
The fact that I can trudge up and down sometimes challenging driveway is a blessing I should celebrate, not dread.
It is so easy to slip into a funk; to forget.
I will remain vigilant in my gratitude, even if it involves occasionally traveling back in memory to the time I lay partially paralyzed and helpless in a hospital bed.
It’s no fun to remember.
It is crucial not to forget.