I’m never quite sure when to use this word.
But a couple weeks ago, as I was chocking on some food,
I read the temporary tattoo on my arm and thought …
“Is this irony?”

I’ve since decided to not get this tattooed for real.

I have felt myself change over the last few years. Even my dreams have changed.
I dont feel like myself anymore. And it is more apparent when surrounded by others.
What ever person you see in the wheelchair, it is not Caroline.
It is a body and mind overtaken by disease.
I mourn this loss everyday. The grief and pain progressing, building rather then diminishing.
Unable to separate myself from the loss with time.
… Or can I?
I want my story to end on a positive note. I want people to say:

“Caroline? I heard she headed north to the mountains with a camera around her neck and a backpack filled with crayons and books (some empty, some not).
She’s smelling the roses.
She’s watching day turning to night turning to day.
She’s listening to the birds and the wind. And she’s playing with colors.”

And the person you see before you now, the girl in the wheelchair, well … I am Anne.
I’m new here. 
Hi 👋!