The temperature dropped last night for the second night in a row. I haven’t checked with the news yet on how “low” we dipped, but this morning’s breeze didn’t slap me in the face with humidity. When David suggested that we take Mom out for a quick walk to the park, I jumped at the idea.
The moment I pulled out my Skechers, Koi started yipping while Bridget picked up her own momentum by jumping on and off the bed, nudging me with excited joy. David put socks and shoes on Mom while I gathered together her foot rests for the wheelchair, one of her sporty hats she likes to wear outside, and bottled water for all of us. We stalled trying to get out the door because the dogs’ tornado-enthusiasm tangled harnesses and leads.
“And they’re off! I exclaimed as the dogs bolted across the yard, towing David as though he weighed nothing. I maneuvered Mom over to the driveway, following David and dogs at a more sedate pace. Mom and I wished a walk could become part of our daily routine (sans dogs) once reasonable temperatures return to our area.
Live Oak Park bustled with energy—relay teams running through the back trails, parents pushing strollers, children mastering new bicycles, families staking out picnic areas. Mom and I saluted every jogger and walker as we wandered our way up to the top of the park where we rendezvoused with David, Bridget and Koi.
“Do you want to loop around the lake?” I asked Mom, not certain if the mile walk tired her. When she nodded affirmative, we zigzagged down the ramps to loop over to our rain thirsty lake. We paused to mourn the lily pads and wondered if the fish survived by retreating to the depths of the lake’s center. Then we began to retrace our steps.
We ambled on the journey home. The dogs, tongues scraping the pavement, walked with the demure pacing of the best trained dogs. My legs, screaming from pushing Mom and the wheelchair uphill the entire way home, couldn’t muster a faster clip. By the time we walked up the front door ramp, our hike had turned into a forty minute excursion. Mom quickly kicked off her shoes and tossed her hat aside, David hustled to pour us cold glasses of juice, and both dogs sprawled on the floor, looking more dead than alive. As for me? I’m can’t wait for our next quick walk.
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman