From the shore, I watch a life I used to know - the seas swirling rough and rapid.

I sit, wrapped in the embrace of a sun I thought I'd never see.

I am unencumbered by worry.  I reach my fingers to the sky, letting the light kiss their smooth tips.  

I think about the storm and how it came, sudden and swift.  

I think about the years of maddening calculations and missteps.  The whirlpools and the hurricanes.  The lashing wind and rain.  The dark days and endless nights.

I think about the fleet of ships that journeyed at my side.  

I think about those that were lost.

I think about the days I was so tired, I thought maybe I could not go on.  And about how, without fail, a fellow traveler laid a hand on my shoulder and said "This storm will pass."  

I wonder about the path we took.  And about what lies ahead.

I trace my hands along the physical scars I received those years.  Knowing their lines and bumps and grooves, so familiar.  

I look back at the old, shredded map with its cross outs and crossbones and exes marking places we should not have ventured.  And I am thankful that it led me here. 

Ever-grateful to be standing on this shore. 

Cured.

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I dream of the day when we'll all stand together on that shore, out of this storm.

And when we arrive, I will be happy to have journeyed with every one of you.

"Happy?" World Diabetes Day.