With my broken leg, I’ve had to slow down my movements even considering that I had long covid and was already slow. Now, I’m at a snail’s pace. Life is different when you move slowly. When you must plan outings including a simple trip upstairs to get a forgotten hairbrush. You learn to prioritize, to multitask, and to be patient.
Patience, indeed. This has been a humbling experience. I thought the indignities of long covid were awful. At least with long covid, I could do for myself, it just took me a long time. With the leg, the pain would stop me in my tracks. “I have to sit down now.” “Can you help me?” “I can’t.” all became part of my daily lexicon. The “I can’t.” was the hardest lesson of all.
I am the magician’s assistant or I used to be. I think I am on my way out. I strut in sequins and spangles and fringe. I wear my own top hat and stiletto heels. Heavy eye makeup. The men in the audience sit a little straighter when I come on stage.
The magician too has grayed at the temples. There’s a touch of white in his neatly trimmed beard. He is “distinguished”, “so handsome”, the ladies sit a little straighter when he bounces onto the stage – virile and larger than life, his black cape and cummerbund downplaying the beginning of his potbelly.
If my body were a puppy, I would love it. I would love it through the rumble tumble time. I would love it when it chewed up my shoes, and I would love it all snuggled up in blankets while I read a book. I would smile at its bark and savor the kisses.
I have not taken particularly good care of our body. I’ve fed our mind and fostered our creativity all the while allowing us to adventure. That I’ve done those things should give you rich memories to look back on. It’s been quite a ride. But our body is on a downhill descent that feels a bit as if we’re riding strong currents leading to a waterfall. Eventually, we are going to go over the falls to a different ride. Perhaps one that is a peaceful glide through the water; or perhaps another wild ride like the last 62 years.
I’m not even going to hazard a guess as to what the next twenty years might hold. The last twenty have been surprising and the twenty before that even more so.
I hope we stay intact. That our voice remains a guide assuring that this too shall pass when in the rough waters and laughing in delight at the scenery at the other times. I do wonder if this last transition will turn us into more spectator than participant in life. Will we begin to make our world smaller? Turn inward?
I’m already a constant examiner of my life – the one I’m living now, the one I lived, and the one I’m creating. I can’t imagine becoming even more introspective, but perhaps. It’s exhausting to even think about the possibility.
Possibility. There’s the rub. I’ve been told that what is possible reduces itself a bit year by year until there is nothing but the inevitable. Dear God, I hope not.
I’ve gotten through life with hope for and anticipation of good things to come.
I’m making peace with the idea that my body is beginning to impose limitations. I am stiff and old injuries haunt me.
I can’t sprawl in the grass and look for animals in the clouds any longer. I would never be able to get up. My hearing is fading which is disastrous when one is almost wholly auditory. I experience the world through sound and words and this inner voice in our head that is sometimes akin to talk radio.
I have no trouble hearing our voice, but it is getting harder to eavesdrop on strangers and invent stories about their life, their hopes, and their dreams.
I think it is a given our inner voice will remain at least until the end and maybe onto the next life. We’ve become friends. The insecure youth that we were has developed some moxie.
Let’s keep that. Shall we? We fought hard for it. To get there. To develop the courage to fail. It takes a lot of pressure off knowing we don’t have to be perfect; We just have to do the best we can under our present limitations.
Let’s go out in grace and style. Observing, yes, but participating in the dance. We weren’t meant to be a wallflower.
W. Va. Fur and Root 