Good Morning.

Eleven-thirty a.m., Thursday May 29. I was working in my office when I receive a text alert… from Erica James. A simple, “Good morning”. My heart skipped a beat with excitement. Did Erica really text me?

A sudden feeling of normal washed over me. 11:30 was about the time Erica and I would text each other on healthy days. Except for her teaching years, Erica was never an early riser. Her philosophy was always, “if I don’t have any reason to get up, then why should I.” Her happy place was morning in bed under a soft blanket. She did more work from her phone in bed than most people do in the office.

But today, this sweet text brought a wave of hope. I knew that this was not just her first text of the day, but her first text to anyone since mid-March. Her speech therapist had just told me the day before that they were working on her communication skills and relearning the phone. This was for safety – if she has an emergency, who would she call? Those two small words, “Good morning,” said so much. They told me that she is trying. Following instruction and working so hard to do the simple things that we all take for granted. Tempted to send a long reply of praise, I opted for what she would find most familiar, my standard reply, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

Erica is now walking 300 continuous feet with a walker and climbing 12 steps using both handrails. She is easily feeding herself (and eating way too many Mike and Ikes). She tells me that every action is not physically tiring, but mentally. She has to think hard about every move. She is fighting. But as Erica always has, she is doing it Erica’s way.