I awoke thinking I was writing about the twelve miles we had pushed against the wind. It took ten hours. Good people stopped and gave us water through the windy, hot day. Never thirsty, backpack still full at the end of the day with the bottles I started out with in the morning. Others brought food for us to eat. Dog biscuits and salad for me. Burgers and chews kept our stomachs full and my pack heavier with extra dogs treats when we stopped for the night.
We met diabetics of all shapes, ages and size. Stubborn ones who are not to be told and dedicated ones who want to grow old. I was told by all what I am doing is an inspiration, still some could not get away fast enough, lest they admit they could do more for themselves.
Everyday someone will tell me as they leave, smiling ear to ear, that I have made their day happier. A bonus which makes my day a joy.
Now I am awake from my sleepy dream. The fog has lifted from my tired senses. I hesitate to read over what I have just written. Will it make any sense? Will it matter? Or Am I still dreaming?
I think I will push the "send" button and forget, like most other dreams.