You began as my enemy: slowing my steps, shaking my left arm and leg, scaring me with what you’d do next. I once banished a burglar by rushing downstairs shrieking like a Maenad. But we were locked together in a wobbly dance. The more frantic I got the more I juddered, like a wind-up doll or jiggling puppet. We got on best when I took the lead: moving my body with sudden speed, exaggerated slowness, or intentional force. The same with my mind: free to roam, it raced towards catastrophe. I had to change it to see you as a friend. You were in me for years but waited to show until my mind and body were in danger of settling into old-age stupor. You jolted me awake: challenging me to live every minute left to me, to burst into flower like a desert cactus.