To paint the devil on the wall

Don’t ask, Will I always be me or will I change?

Will I realize when I do not recognize myself or you?

Will any decline luckily be stopped short so I’ll not need to worry anymore?

To be able to do everything I always did, albeit more slowly, is a constant concern.

Not to be relying on the kindness of relatives, friends, or strangers, another.

I pray harder, harder to live independently all the countdown to that buzzer.

Anyway, you know, any of these answers is unknown until it’s answered.

I often wonder if these fears are magnified for a solo traveler?

That’s another question I believe I should stop asking.

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