Thirty years ago today I was transferred from the state mental hospital (where I had lived for 4 months) to the county transitional home (for however long they could keep receiving my monthly disability check). I was homeless and didn't have anywhere else to go.
It was pouring rain and the staff were busy making preparations for hurricane Opal. They didn't have time for me. I offered to help but was rebuffed. The door to my assigned bedroom was locked -- my new roommate was hostile. She wanted the room to herself and didn't want me touching her stuff.
If you had asked me on that day what were the chances that I'd still be alive and well, happily married and financially secure, thirty years hence -- I'd have said the chances were absolute zero.
Nevertheless, here I am.
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