In high school we had a teacher called Mr. Power. In contrast to his name, he walked with slow inflexible steps, dragging his feet along the floor. As teenagers often do, the kids created an epithet for him. They called him Battery Power. Only behind his back, of course.
Yesterday I fell down a couple of steps and hurt both feet. The injury wasn't serious, but my feet hurt all day, especially the right one. Not being able to take walking for granted really made me appreciate my feet. As I was quickly reminded, we need our feet for everything.
Wanted to repot a plant. Nope. Couldn't make it down the stairs to the garage, where the potting soil was. Wanted to water the garden, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I thoughtlessly tried to slip on my rubber garden shoes. Later we had to go out. Having to be helped into my loosened sandals caused a mixture of gratitude and irritation.
After a good sleep with ice on the injury, this morning I can walk without yesterday's pronounced limp. But my gait has changed. I drag my feet along the floor with slow, short careful steps. Just like Mr. Power, I suddenly thought, and realized he was probably a war vet.
How grateful I am to be physically able-bodied and whole. The temporary loss of something taken for granted can be a salutary reminder of how much we have to be thankful for.
Now I sound like my mother, who's been dead for nearly twenty-one years. Interesting, isn't it, how things have a way of circling back?
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