Chapter 7: Distance Measured text
Six weeks after discharge the physical recovery had progressed enough that the accident occupied fewer hours of each day.
I returned to limited professional correspondence and the quiet oversight of the holdings that remained under my direct attention. The charitable foundation sent its routine reports; I read them and left the operational work to the people hired for it. The lake house generated its usual maintenance updates; I approved what was necessary and declined a suggestion that the property be listed for family use over a holiday weekend. The decline required only one sentence.
Family contact had dwindled to occasional logistical questions from a cousin who still believed small bridges might be useful. I answered the logistical questions and ignored the bridges. Theo—no, that was another story. Here there was only the residual orbit of people who had once assumed they would remain inside the perimeter of my planning. The perimeter had been redrawn while a delivery truck’s damage was still fresh and a video of throw pillows was still circulating. Redrawing it again in the opposite direction held no interest for me.
