EPILOGUE

It’s been a busy year. I got malaria on a trip to Uganda and almost died. I

could have avoided it by taking a nickel pill and drinking a half glass of
water. You can probably avoid some of what’s been killing your joy just
as easily.
The Lodge that took us twenty-two years to build burned to the
ground, along with everything we loved inside of it. We keep reminding
each other we’re sad but not stuck. Memories aren’t flammable.
Carol is still in heaven. I don’t watch baseball, but she loved the Red
Sox. I told her before she went home I would wear her Red Sox hat and
represent them here so long as she mentioned my name to Jesus when He
passed by. I hope she’s keeping up her end of the deal.
The limo driver retired and probably found a great deal on a used
yellow truck.
Lex is still jumping big. He won the silver medal in the Rio de Janeiro
Paralympics and the gold medal in the London World Paralympics
Championships. Adam and I are still skydiving, but he goes more often
than I do. Lex is planning on taking lessons and will be jumping with us
soon. I know. I thought it was a bad idea too. Last one, best one.
I went back to the wax museum and they had turned it into a hot yoga
studio. They didn’t, of course, but I thought it would be pretty boss if I
could tell you they did.
I still go to the pizza place, but these days I’m there for the food, not
the tickets.
I still play the piano and hit lots of wrong notes, but my friends keep
tapping their feet as if I didn’t.
My eyesight hasn’t come all the way back, but I continue to see more
each day. I’ve gotten to know the new guy at TSA who took over for