According to the gospel of my then first time parents I began to walk at the age of eighteen months. Really? I feel as if I am still learning this supposedly basic method of ambulation. As you can read, I do not trip over words. I trip over my own two feet. Technically, I am a senior and yet my feet still stumble over their partnership. Despite the advancement of age they have not mastered coordination, or choreography. That fine dance of who steps forward first, the left or the right, remains an awkward mystery. To illustrate their uncomfortable, definitely unsuitable pairing my twins once refused to obey my command to step out of my RV. I believe rather than figure out their respective synched response they bawked. They hesitated. They did nothing. No one informed my brain that a mutiny had begun. Perhaps the conspiracy extended to the unseen forces of physics and gravity. Anyway, moi, balancing a fresh mug of hot tea, shot out the door as if expelled by a cannon. I missed landing on the deck, in fact, I cleared it. Had I been a long jumper it is not boasting to say a world record had been made. Those two useless appendages attached to my legs also had no intention of participating in my impending landing. I did not have time to consider a tuck and roll. I remember bouncing off a particularly solid tree before I collapsed. I recall I was wearing thongs, no, not undies, flip flops. For some reason my feet and their work stoppage occurred just as one of them trod onto the end of the other's footwear. If one of them could not be my best foot forward then neither of them would be. This learning curve has been frustrating and painful. I have never aspired to be an athlete. What mayhem these two could have created. Downhill skiing? Snowballing tumbles? No thanks. Running? You mean together? At the same time? Jumping? Could one of us stay on the ground? These two have an affinity for corners and doorways. Must they test the structural integrity of each one they encounter? Why are my vulnerable toes steered towards each one? As far as I'm concerned you stub and fracture your toe one time you do not need to repeat the experience. Is this one of their annoying party tricks meant to gain attention? How do my feet manage to turn my socks completely around while they are encased within shoes? The heels of the socks end up atop my feet. Is there intent? Purpose? Sigh, I digress. After a skirmish atop a kitchen stool last December, my son, Chris, decided my feet should never be trusted to leave the floor/ground. So, no climbing the walls? No skipping? No dancing as if no one's watching? No jumping for joy? No tripping the light fantastic? No pacing? Wait, I should still attempt to walk, right? Shuffle? I suppose my feet do not like to grin and bear it, er, me. I have granted them various breaks when I've contended with breaks/fractures of another kind. They are not satisfied. Even when I'm trapped within a wheelchair they act up. Karma intervened though. When they could not keep themselves out of the way I ran over them. They were not happy. Because of certain injuries and surgeries my feet were introduced to crutches.These foot substitutes were in no way more accommodating than my own two feet They delighted in tripping me and pitching me to the ground. I still shake my head in puzzlement, too. For whatever reason, crutches are also attracted to doorways and corners. Despite of, or is it in spite of, 'cause I'm stubborn, I still invite my reluctant feet along for ambles about town. They protest. I insist. They cramp. They ache. They stumble. Sometimes, they hobble. We have boundary issues and have yet to establish a cohesive, mutually beneficial relationship. I must be an optimist. Someday, I know they will support me. I'm still waiting. It can't be too late to learn how to walk, can it? 687 words Attention: StephBee  and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ  "The Bard's Hall Contest"  |
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