My first greatly overdue venture into the unknown world of the hospital corridor could by no means be described accurately as a walk. It was a triumphal procession with me as Victoria the pasty queen. I led my admiring entourage, consisting of my ladies in waiting (mother and sister), who carried my throne (“just in case I faint” chair) and my sceptre (drip stand), and my beloved Albert (the physiotherapist), upon whom I gently rested my arm and listened to wise counsel, out of my palace. As my toes tentatively edged forwards, adoring crowds (the nurses) clapped and whooped and cheered. A smile, a facial expression I thought was all but forgotten, slowly emerged on my face. At first it was merely a twitch, weighed down by a week of unfortunate occurrences. As the crowds clapping crescendoed, my lips quivered, trembled, flickered. How would they ever overcome the avoirdupois of my cheerless cheeks? Yet, my not long ago lifeless and now lively lips prevailed and lifted victorious. A smile, a simple upward curvature of the lips, and a whole face, a whole body is rejuvenated. The contagious nature of the smile rendering those who love us just as susceptible, just as likely to receive that well needed boost. One smile and possibilities, ideas, dreams can once again begin to be formulated, planned and imagined. A step, something taken for granted in most people’s days, and yet, in just some people somewhere that one step is a mountain, an opening of a world, a beginning.