About three weeks ago I dreaded the drive to Shands Rehab about 30 miles away.
Three weeks ago I played country music LOUD and listened to sad, sad songs and wiped tears off my cheeks. I didn't want to think. . . just escape in the songs.
Three weeks ago I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white and my palms were red.
I gritted my teeth and I prayed silently that every driver on the road was paying attention and not texting.
I dreaded passing 18-wheelers and trailers loaded with hay for fear the chords would pop off the trailers and generators or hay bales would land on my car and I would be crushed.
Well, now I cautiously drive through High Springs because I think the Sheriff's department is trying to make extra money by ticketing speeders.
Then I get on I-75 and zippity, zappity, zoo. . .
And before you know it, I'm at rehab.
Love the contrast of the photos to match the contrast of the story!
Posted by: Nancy | February 25, 2011 at 07:02 PM