I’m afraid to hope that head-wounded Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, updated yesterday to serious from critical in Tucson, Arizona, will be okay.
Like most hopes, I’m afraid because I am counting on it, needing her to be okay. In the week since the shooting spree that wounded her and 18 others, six fatally, she has become someone I care about deeply. I read that her husband Mark calls her Gabby. I want to call her Gabby.
Like most emotion, this is selfish. With each unassisted breath, with each sign her brain is working, I unclench. If she summons deep deep will and improves, if she defies the odds against her, if she can make it; then, I believe, I can heal.