The floor is ice

I dream I am a child riding on the back of an enormous elephant. This is my Ganesha.
It has been two long months.
How has it only been two months?

30 grams. 25. 20. 15. I am on 15 grams of Prednisone. By the start of March, it will be zero.
I really should have marked the number of days that did not include tears. This must be my body cycling through water to cleanse and regenerate.

Concurrent days with no symptoms: the clock resets back to one.
One foot in front of the other.

The ground beneath me is dirt, giving gently to the weight of my foot.
I step Left. Concrete. Stable, but no give.
I step Right onto sand—more effort to move forward, but I’m thankful for the softness.
It is winter. My next step lands on ice.
In my mind it is spring, and once again I feel the forest floor.

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