I wrote this in November of 2003 to share, but here it is again: Where is the person called “I?” There is a stranger in a mirror, and that stranger touches it's shoulder, a familiar touch but yet so unfamiliar, someone looks back in the mirror with a puzzled look that look is familiar yet so unfamiliar. The mind makes the body walk with extremities that feel like they have leaded weights attached, forced movement, careful movement. The body has pain, like a flu that doesn’t pass, with all muscles hurting. The pain has its own mind and decides to move to areas that do not make sense. The body is so tired, a sick tired. A battle between the mind and body. The mind maintains, during the day it’s important to maintain. The mind keeps the body functioning so work can be finished; and then the mind lets the body leave the place of work and go home. The body wants to lie down and close its eyes and sleep, but the mind makes the body’s eyes stay open, while the mind goes to a misty place, not quite where the body is. The body feels so tired; the mind allows the body to put the head down, ah sleep. The sleep hurts, the sleep is not restful. And the sleep that isn’t restful causes the mind to wake up, and then the body to have pain and nausea, and the mind won’t focus. The mind is not quite there, but back in that misty place. Where is that person called “I”? “I” would be out of bed at the crack of dawn ready to mow the lawn and work in the yard to get a really good sweat! Ah, there’s a memory of how the body and mind felt when sweat came! “I” would look in the mirror and take a shower touching firmly and cleaning firmly every inch of the body until it squeaked, and then be dressed and eagerly waiting for what might come that day with a smile, and feeling warm and “golden” all over. “I” would be cleaning the house all in one day, all the corners, and even preparing for meals, doing the laundry, shopping for groceries, running errands . . . The person that was called “I” is missed and grieved for.