@@@@@ Only Ilse still seemed to be on my teamOnly 676
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Only Ilse still seemed to be on my teamOnly Ilse
refused to turn in her uniformI never got that
other feeling about herIlse was still on my side
of the glass window, always reaching outIf I
didn't e-mail her every day, she calledIf I
didn't call her once every third day, she called
meAnd to her I didn't lie about my plans to fish
in the Gulf or check out the EvergladesTo Ilse I
told the truth, or as much of it as I could
without sounding crazy
I told her, for instance, about my morning walks
along the beach, and that I was walking a little
farther each day, but not about the Numbers Game,
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because it sounded too sillyor maybe
obsessive-compulsive is the term I actually want
Just thirty-eight steps from Big Pink on that
first morningOn my second one I helped myself to
another huge glass of orange juice and then walked
south along the beach againThis time I walked
forty-five steps, which was a long distance for me
to totter crutchless in those daysI managed by
telling myself it was really only nineThat
sleight-of-mind is the basis of the Numbers Game
You walk one step, then two steps, then three,
then four, rolling your mental odometer back to
zero each time until you reach nineAnd when you
add the numbers one through nine together, you
come out with forty-fiveIf that strikes you as
nuts, I won't argue
The third morning I coaxed myself into walking ten
steps from Big Pink sans crutch, which is really
fifty-five, or about ninety yards, round-tripA
week later and I was up to seventeenand when
you add all those numbers, you come out with a
hundred and fifty-threeI'd get to the end of
that distance, look back at my house, and marvel
at how far away it lookedI'd also sag a little
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at the thought of having to walk all the way back
again
You can do it, I'd tell myselfJust
seventeen steps, is al
