Rumors of my death are premature, and probably all my fault. Chest pains, with my family history of heart attacks, always make me think dark thoughts of mortality and impending doom. Today, however, it was merely cold air in my lungs and continuing to remember Trump will soon be President. I need to forget about the greedy old orangutan for a while, and let my heart and imagination soar again. I drew this colored pencil Pegasus in 1980, before I became a teacher and planned on saving the world. Back then I thought anything was possible since I was young and bright and talented. But looking back on old artwork like this helps me remember too that once the future seemed bright. And the days can be bright again even if the Cubs won the Series and the world has ended. Vicks Vapo-Rub and balancing my bloodsugar, combined with rest, put me back in the pink… even if it is still a rather pale pink. Number two son was not perfect either, but he got up and showered, and then, being tough-minded, went to school for the afternoon. Some days are a little harder than others. Sometimes you have to wonder when the last day will come. But I am not dead yet. And there is a lot more to do. And somewhere, somehow, horses really can fly, right?