This has been quite the weekend: In the valley between sickness and health, knowing and not knowing, thinking of all those who are unwell and all those medical charts full of question marks. In front of the fireplace, with red wine and Reality Bites and Oriana, coming home smelling of campfire. In a circle of good cheer at The Neos’ holiday gathering, wherein those involved in our secret present exchange reveal themselves. In writing group, pondering one writer’s theme — the idea that we use X to get to Y, but then when do we let Y go? In this armchair in this bedroom, wearing a necklace with a charm that’s a sparrow with a key in its mouth, typing out this entry, wishing I had a more profound way to convey that this is where we cross the rope bridge suspended high above the cavern, with the planks missing and the rope fraying, and the only way over is through.