Solid Footing

Some days the ground must feel like sand or mud or sludge to you.  Your feet shuffle and stumble and stub up against things.

Some days you ask me if you need permission to go outside, or if there’s a sign-out list, or who it is you need to pay for breakfast.

I know you rarely remember, but you used to take me to the roller rink at the old San Francisco boardwalk and whisk me around and never let me fall.  You rode bicycles mile after endless mile with me.  You walked me down the aisle to my husband.

But some days now, you’re afraid to put your feet on the floor.

You’re afraid you will fall.

You’re afraid.

Dementia did this.  It took you away though your body is here.

I see you every day and fix your meals and wasn’t aware how fast your were leaving.

I didn’t say a proper good-bye.

But today…

You can hardly wait to go out in the sun.

Today you found the door.  And even opened it by yourself.

Today the deck is solid beneath your feet.  You lift each shoe completely up.  You set each shoe firmly down.

And I see the walker left behind.

Good for you, Dad.  Good for you.

WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Beneath Your Feet

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Solid Footing

  1. (Sigh) You touch me over and over Brooke – my own family experiences are so similar. And I think too about who I will be ….. Blessings to you, Sue

    Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s