de l'encre au bout des doigts

I’m a no nonsense walker.

In a car I’m a law abiding careful driver, but it come to walking, no one messes with me. Not that I don’t know how to take a scenery in, nor when it’s totally worth stopping. I can do that, I can stop on a pond and watch ducks dive in the water as the sun sets. Rediscover the meaning of breathing while I revel in a beautiful sight. A parisian monument, a garden, children chasing each others in autumn leaves, ducks diving as the sun sets.

You’ll be amazed how often I can do that while also walking (fast). 

I don’t know why, I sometimes enervate even myself with the sounds of my own shoes beating the pavement, but my pace, it’s fast, I can’t help it : 

— Is Blandine around?

— Yes, I heard her walk down the hallway.

Unless we’re strolling in the sun after a nice lunch, slow walkers, I often want to claw then and hiss at them to get on with it. I mean, what’s the unhurry for God’s sake?! If you want a longer chat, we can go around the block twice you know.

So, it’s been odd lately. We’re so used to being whole, we forget. How we need both our feet and legs and arms and eyes. Try peeling a potatoes with just your five fingers, and then we’ll talk. 

I’ve been so lucky. When I fell (yes, again, I can’t believe I’m always sober when it happens), I could have broken my foot or my arm, I could have been ran over. Worse, the princess asleep in my arms could have been harmed.

It’s only a  badly sprang foot. I’m not denying the pain nor the hassle, but all things considered, it’s nothing. 

After being immobilized two weeks with my foot up, after waking up tired day after day, I’ve humbly rediscovered the annoyance and helplessness of being reduced to spend my days on a couch, doing absolutely nothing (please don’t look at my nails humkay?) : better not forget my glasses downstairs. It’s a matter of planning and time and pain. Yes, better not have to walk down with a cane. Careful now, you don’t want to hurt the other one.

The pain. Well, I didn’t cry. 

The first trip outside, to fetch the kids. Two tired arms and impatient youngster. Better you take the keys then. The way’s safe from now on, I’ll catch up with you. Eventually. You’ll all be showered by then, probably.

I’m cane free now, with a removable splint I’ve decided to forget in a drawer. I can’t run, I can’t drive*. Still, I must walk slowly. Watch two buses dash by the end of the road, and then wait 20 min for mine. The world is spinning as fast as ever, yet as hard as I try to add spring to my steps, I’ve never walked slower. I’ve stopped cursing. I’ve learned to let go. It’s OK, this kind of healing, it needs its own particular kind of pace. I’ve been given its timetable, I know. 

I try to see the bright side. Like, I’m grateful I didn’t seriously injure myself. Running the household became crazy enough as it were. I’m grateful I was the one falling and that my child is alright. That I have a true companion I can lean on. That it remained sunny outside and I was sparred hobbling to school under the rain. 

I’m thankful I have such good friends and neighbours who gave me ride or fetched my kids for me. Thanks for all your emails!

This week, I even walked further, to my beloved old Dame, Lady Paris. It took longer than usual, I tried to enjoy my slow motion through a fast forwarded world, the bus and train ride, the underground, and then lunch. // When you leave a group, friends, colleagues, you always expect to keep in touch with some people, and you’re usually wrong. It’s always surprising, the ones who do stay in touch. Those who will reach out for who you are independently of power plays and schemes. //

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to add even more spring to my steps and walk further in and throughout life, and who knows, I may even do so with a real purpose. 

I learned I was one among the winners of a two year old writing contest yesterday. I guess, sometimes, slow is good.

*(not like that, shut up! hee.).