Sunday, December 9, 2012

Open Mouth. Change Feet.

Swaddled in a big winter coat, hat and scarf, she was a slo-mo video of ambulation:
Left foot planted,
Right foot dragged up to match,
Cane moved forward,
Contracted right arm frozen in place across her middle.






Progress was painfully slow and discouraging to watch.  Wouldn't a wheelchair, or better yet, an electric scooter be a much better option, I asked myself?  But then, I didn't know this Determined-to-be-ABLE lady.  I came alongside to see if she needed assistance.

"No thanks.  I'm almost there," she said.

I pulled back her hat a smidge off her brow so her eyes were clear of the brim.  Man!  She could barely see where she was going.

We stepped-paused-stepped in sync for a bit, until a gentleman came up and said, "Oh, there you are!"

"Is this your mother," I asked, giving him my most winning smile?

He made a noise somewhere between a choke and a gasp.  "She's too young to be my mother.  She's my wife and I am older than she is."

G R O A N.

Floor, please swallow me whole.  I'm dying, or want to be.  A classic example of assumptions made, not looking beyond the immediately obvious, to see the real person in front of me.  Is there forgiveness for even this????

Post a Comment