Standing in line behind her in Starbucks, I observed her as she leaned nonchalantly against the counter. I knew that stance—that was me, more than a decade ago, the slight swaying in the nonexistent breeze, the carefully annunciated speech, and the slow response to the barista’s terse questions. There was no doubt—this tall, skinny, unkempt woman was a brain injury survivor, in her early days of recovery.
by DOULKERIDIS BOOK www.flickr.com I watched the woman standing between the parallel bars, hanging on for dear life as she contemplated the low aerobic stepper in front of her. Her right heel rose a hair off the floor, then lowered, and again. Then in an abrupt motion, legs shaking, she lifted her right foot onto … Read more