She was making it, she was really making that long trek back. When the therapists at the medical center had told me she'd been talking about taking a wanderjahr —a protracted traveling vacation—I'd been drek-scared. She was too vulnerable, I'd worried, not yet far enough from the precipice of drugs and chips (and worse!) that had almost claimed her. She wouldn't have the strength to resist the thousands of temptations that the real world represented.