she celebrates what she can do and does it.

During a great visit to NJ this past week, we all went to the beach. We did the ramps as far as we could go. Then Mom got out of the wheelchair and used it as a walker. My sisters knew the drill. I was feeling apprehensive about her walking in the sand—like I was Baby Jane taking Blanche to the beach—but this type of thing was all just part of her day.

The ocean that day made a little inlet, so we sat in beach chairs, talked and laughed, moving back now and then as the tide came in.

She tried a new dark beer at dinner, and became “The Party Girl” to the server.

Always plagued with the family Curse of the Bad Back, hers has lost its flexibility. Or maybe that wonderful trait just migrated up to her head.

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