It starts every year about this time, the drive to go back; to return to the hazy, cocoon-like embrace of Tiantan and escape the harsh light of reality.

To watch the sun cast longer rays on the hillside and feel the first warmth of spring feels foreign and wrong.  Spring for me has come to mean cherry blossoms and gritty skies.  It means endless days filled with therapies with the occasional reprieve provided by an outing to the market or park.

We should be planning and making preparations.

For the second year in a row, we won’t be making the return trip to Beijing.  The back that we long for no longer exists.  The therapy is different, the hospital is different.  Returning would only provide more risk than benefit and  we aren’t about gamble with  Tatyanna’s life.

But it doesn’t erase the feeling of longing.

For us, back means fighting.