With all due respect to Theodore 'Dr Seuss' Geisel, thank you for the divine inspiration. And for the paraphrased title of this entry.

Oh, The Places I Go.

I go to a place of envy when I see people running. How I long to propel myself forward at such a swift pace, feeling as if the earth is a giant treadmill humming along under my ever moving feet.

I go to a place of judgment when I watch people park in blue handicapped spots. I sit in silence while they exit their vehicles and I size them up to determine their worthiness of the spot. I feel terribly guilty when thinking these uncontrollable thoughts, as if my disability being worse than theirs makes me any more deserving than them of a primo parking space.

I go to a place of frustration when I am unable to verbally communicate even the most basic of ideas to people. Most of the time I am game for finding alternate ways to express my thoughts but sometimes I prefer the solace of silence.

I go to a place of despair when I allow myself to ponder a future without me in it.

I go to a place of relief when I am under the loving and expert care of my health care providers and practitioners. My world gets a little easier to live in because of what you do for me.

I go to a place of happiness when my friends come around for a visit. Whether you're someone I've known only briefly or someone I've known my whole life, I savor every second of our time spent together. Besides, we've got good snacks at our house, too. Hint, hint.

I go to a place of gratitude when I think of the sacrifices my family has made on my behalf. Your unwavering commitment to my health and well being is inspiring beyond my meager ability to adequately describe how much you all mean to me.

I go to a place of comfort every night when the lights go out and Fehmeen lies in bed next to me. As we snuggle together under the sheets and all the world ceases to exist, save for you and I, a safer and more beautiful place would be impossible to find. In the brief time before we drift off to sleep, I am well again.

I go to a place of hope when I look into my beautiful Emma's eyes. When I gaze into those limpid pools of blue gray tranquility, I catch a glimpse of her future, both near and distant. Walking, talking, singing, and dancing. Reading books, riding a bike, going to school, and making friends. Driving a car, graduating from school, getting married, and becoming a mother. As I watch these events unfold in my mind, I am able to see something else, as well. A future unclouded by uncertainty. A future shared by a father and a daughter. A future of unlimited possibility and love.

Oh, The Places I Go.

About the Author

Jason Picetti

Jason Picetti lived life with ALS by six simple words: Speech and movement compromised, spirit unaffected. He died on October 2011.

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