Faraday Therapy

In my possession lies a weathered, laminated commercial driver’s license issued by the Army, detailing the classes of vehicles I was trained to command and the myriad driving skills acquired. Over the past year, I have put these skills to the test, maneuvering treacherous roads with a cautious proficiency that has spared me all but a minor collision in Key West—a distracted driver backing into my vehicle on the day of our first vaccination. More recently, I narrowly avoided a crash en route to the Seven Bridges event, braking just in time as a car abruptly halted while merging. Gratefully, the other driver waved me off, and though my car endured better than my years of service, the incident left a faint mark. Today, I relied on my combat driving training, a form of advanced defensive driving learned long ago, navigating diverse weather and chaos with a calm mindfulness that belies the hurried impatience of others chasing fleeting seconds. My instructor, a stern ex-Army Colonel, instilled in me a serene focus akin to that of a martial artist—a tranquil calm amid storms of haste. This car, intended for my beloved yet overshadowed by newer technology, serves as a beacon of caution in a world rushing blindly. Though transitioning from their lives, my bond remains unbroken; abandonment is a notion foreign to both my ex and angel, for care endures beyond presence.