I step carefully into my day, one wobbly leg forward.
I position the cane in front of me, and then painfully
shuffle the other. Carefully, cautiously repeat, repeat.
These days I have come to accept this. Things for me
moving forward are guaranteed to worsen over time.
There is no cure for a stubborn old man who resists
change at every turn.
I’ll be damned if I’ll let them cut into me. What then?
There will always be something else to follow, the
other hip, then the knees, cancer or a stroke perhaps.
Today, as is with every other day, I’ll find the nesting
place of least pain to while away the hours. Today I’ll
allow Yo-Yo Ma and his mellow cello to serenade and
stimulate me with fond memories of better days gone by.
I’ll likely find a place in time which invites me to write
and escape the doldrums and discomfort of today. I find
I can step back and forward in my mind, even run the
marathon race exercising the words and images I pick
and choose along the way.
My cane rests securely in place beside me in the event
I need to interrupt my pace and get up to pee. At age 73,
for me at least, I find there is pain, pleasure and relief in
familiarity.
And my companion pup, Carmen, who rests steadfast
between my legs, I believe she feels the same.
Forward march is part of the military man which still
exists in me.
-30-
Chris Hanch 10-8-2020
No comments:
Post a Comment