Last night I dreamed of my sister.
She was standing in her kitchen in white painter pants and her paisley blue and white Indian shirt, watering her plants.
This was odd, because she hadn't stood up in maybe 10 years.
"Should you be walking around?" I asked.
"I'm a little wobbly, but I'm okay," she answered.
That is what I choose to believe. She is somewhere learning to stand again, not quite 100%, but getting there nevertheless.