Good Blood, Bad Blood

“We are all just walking each other home.” Ram Dass

My days follow a simple pattern. I walk, I read, and I nap. Today, I wander through our neighborhood alone. Current events reveal a world gone mad. I am careful to not dive deep into the follies of mankind. It’s a whirlpool of regret. Wars, climate change, political imbroglios, one can only sigh at the collective insanity.

But here, orderliness prevails. The yard trees have leafed out. Branches wave in the wind. Their leaves rustle in mid-morning sunshine. Children attend school, parents work. A weekday calm prevails. Empty streets, solitude, and silence are my companions.

When I yearn for company, I text a friend. We follow the pavement along the waterfront. The two mile long level path suits my limitations. In spite of our easy pace, I ask to stop and rest at a bench. I must catch my breath.

If the wind is up, we watch sail boarders plow white caps on the water. Plump geese bob upon the ever churning river. Osprey tilt and glide high above us. Acquaintances stop and chat. After several minutes, we rise and mosey along our route.

One morning, a mutual friend joins us. He brings me a cane. It’s an unexpected gift. The shaft has numerous nicks and scratches. The implement has character, made from a single piece of rattan. The finish is a natural satin brown. Its handle is curved in a crook shape. A hard black rubber tip quiets its tapping on the path.

Am I a worthy candidate for such assistance? Well, yes and no. The numbness in my feet can sometimes make me feel wobbly. So, though I don’t need a cane to walk upright, it does steady me stepping on and off curbs or on the uneven footing that comes with walking on grass. I stand more upright. I’m confident where before I was tentative. It helps and I like it.

These morning walks are part of my effort to stay engaged. My relapsing cancer saw me drift away from previous activities. Social contacts diminished. Fortunately, in addition to my walking buddies, I have two active grandkids who provide entertainment. We gather with friends and family at baseball and softball games.

I bring a lawn chair to sit on. Spring winds, prevalent this year, stir up clouds of infield dirt. Dust devils dance on home plate. The kids learn to compete. We share in their success.

Evenings without a game are quiet. My wife and I enjoy a simple meal. We watch an episode of a mystery series on TV. Afterwards, we stroll through the neighborhood, leaving the tyranny of our smart phones behind.

We venture to where the well kept streets meet the wilds of the Indian Creek drainage. Chaos or order? Which is which? There’s always a choice. We turn around and walk home together.