The kids and I went to see my parents today, and I went on a walk with my dad. He’s been slowly building back his stamina over the past few months. A stroke over a year ago and a likely string of mini-strokes have left him a bit off-balance and often disoriented. He’s been in physical therapy, which he wasn’t too thrilled about at first, but he’s gained a new enthusiasm for his daily walk.
We started off down the sidewalk and crossed the street to where the tree I climbed as a kid used to be. When we passed the park, he suggested we continue down to the next court. As we walked, we reminisced: that’s where we had the neighborhood Easter egg hunt; down there at the fork in the path in the woods was where my sister’s patrol post was; that’s the house where we went to Vacation Bible School one summer.
At the far end of the lower court, my dad held up his cane and pointed to a set of stairs that climbed up the side of a hill into another part of the neighborhood. He thought for a minute and said, “I’m not ready for that yet.” I nearly jumped for joy hearing the word “yet” come out of his mouth.
“We’ll work up to that,” I assured him.
We walked back toward home, and he paused. At first, I thought he was confused about his whereabouts, but he was considering his options.
“We can either be at the halfway point or we can take a straight shot home,” I said.
“Let’s go the longer way,” he decided.
We continued on, and I pointed out the park that used to have the merry-go-round my sister fell off of and broke her arm. My dad then pointed up the street at the grassy spot where a see-saw sat in the late 70’s and 80’s.
“Oh, yeah, that’s where we gave each cherry bombs,” I said. It’s where you jump off when the other person reaches the apex, causing them to crash down hard. It’s pretty brutal, and I don’t really wonder why they took it out.
When we approached the front door, my dad said it was the longest walk he’s taken yet. On our list: those stairs up the hill.
My Corner of the Village 