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Well… after three years of avoiding any and all illnesses, it finally happened. No, I don’t have covid, or strep, or anything like that. But, I’m still sick as a dog. Though, I don't really feel like it.
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I thought I’d prepared well. I knew my material. The topic was something I was extremely excited and passionate about, and I could talk about all day (nature, of course).
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Thick fog had settled on the dark, winding mountain road. I was driving cautiously as I could, white-knuckles gripping the steering wheel and my boot barely pressing down on the gas pedal.
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Leaves on the Cottonwoods were just beginning to turn from shamrock green to golden yellow when I arrived at the red clay trail.
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Death, more specifically, my death, isn’t something I fear. After so many years of living in its shadow, and having more than my fair share of very close calls, death isn’t something I am all that afraid of. I mean, even now, as a healthy, physically active adult, I still think about death and dying daily, but more in a reflective way rather than a fearful or dreadful way.
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