Learning to walk properly, quickly, smoothly is my biggest challenge at this point. I try to take four walks per day each one a little further, longer, quicker.
Philip, of course, has been taking my arm, but I decided it was time to take charge of this walk myself (as long as he is still by my side.)
My choices of independence include a regular walker, a four prong aluminum cane or a wooden cane. For some reason all of the above just could not work for me. Then I remembered that years ago while at a conference in Little Rock, Arkansas, I found a wonderful sassafras cane with a rawhide loop at the top for hanging. I immediately bought it and brought it home on the airplane.
I hung it in my kitchen just for the beauty of it. It is tall and crooked and full of character. I took it off the hook in my kitchen and it has now become my constant companion.
I already have heard the rumors and stories or sightings of me and my old cane walking the streets of my town.
Last night as we walked through the cold and mist the only sound was the tapping of my sassafras cane.
So, shall I become the eccentric old woman who lives in the purple house walking by moonlight with her sassafras cane?
Or shall I remain the eccentric storyteller/writer always looking for a good story? Or...both?