I smelled the earth as it woke up, walking outside on Saturday morning. The mother dove had returned to her nest, and was making repairs to her long-abandoned summer home in the corner of the porch ceiling. She sang as she did it, and I sang, too. But the hours passed, and the sun rose to its zenith and began its descent by the time I was free to leave the office again. Stretching from leaving that box, I realized afresh that I had arms and legs, and muscles to move them.
I was out of doors in minutes, dressed for a run, hoping for a sweat that was the result of sun pounding on my back, and not just the few miles I aimed for.
As I completed the third lap at my favorite park, I saw a man and his wife getting up off a bench. He had only one leg, and was supported by two arm crutches. I "felt instinctively," as Anne of Green Gables so often felt, that there was a conversation to be had here. So I stopped, and said, I kid you not, "No way! You only have one leg!" Somehow, in the moment, it was not as bad as it sounds to you right now. You will just have to trust me on this... You weren't there, okay?
He responded, "I wish I could do what you're doing!"
"What I am doing is far less impressive than what you're doing, sir! This was going to be my last lap, but now I'm going to run another lap, in your honor!" He chuckled, and off I went. It was the worst lap. I wanted to quit so badly after the third one, but I had made a promise to a man with only one leg. If I broke that promise... something inside me told me my legs would be in danger.
On I went, and got to thank them as they left the park. They were very supportive of a poor soul with no filter. I was sure that was the best the day had in it, and was content.
As I walked on, I found myself at the bottom of the walking path: surrounded on all sides by field, grasses, and swamp. It occurred to me that this moment was the furthest I'd been physically away from people in perhaps four months. A wet little lab-spaniel puppy came bounding up to me, banishing serious thoughts with her jumping and rolling. She was owned by four small Amish kids who were fishing in the stream, and she followed me for several yards, impervious to their calling. I felt the honor of her precious attentions. Eventually they had to catch up with me to get her back, despite my prodding her to return to them.
On the first true spring afternoon of the year, nothing was covered in snow, I had all my limbs, and a very cute dog had just made my pants muddy.
No comments:
Post a Comment