That's How We Roll

It's morning, and I really want to write this morning. It's not that I have anything spectacular to say. It just feels better to write before the day really gets underway. I have the energy this morning too, not like yesterday. My stamina may not be what it once was, but when it all comes together, I can still go a mile or two, especially in the truck.

I plan on driving this morning. We are headed to see a fellow PALS, something I try to do on every trip. It helps me to meet these people in person, these people with whom I interact on a daily basis online. David is worried that seeing someone further along in progression than myself might be a challenge for me. It's not. In fact the reverse is true. I really dislike meeting people who are not as far along as me, or who are early in the process, especially those who have hope for a cure. I have accepted my fate. It is presumptuous of me to comment on their fate, but reality is what it is.

I do have hope. Today I hope to have a nice chat with a fellow PALS. Today I hope to visit the birthplace of Buddy Holly. Today I hope to have a good meal, taste a good glass of beer, feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. Today I hope to take yet another breath, to see yet another new thing, to sense another new sense. Today I hope to live what life is available to me. When this hope is gone, truly all hope is gone.

Texas is a big place. We will be rolling across this varied state today, tomorrow, and the day after. Then, finally, we should arrive in Lake Charles, LA to see my brother. That is unless the San Antonio stop to see the Alamo and walk the Riverwalk is just too enticing and we stay for another day, or unless we determine that we need another detour to some other oddball place. We might. That's how we roll.