August 18, 2012

A Walk to the Mailbox

I see bubblegum pink out of the corner of my eye and turn to look. She is coming around the corner of her house wearing bubblegum pink pants with a white patterned hibiscus shirt, shadowed by more bubblegum pink. Her hair is as normal, with a few stray strands poking out her and there, as if a few rollers fell out before they should have. Today she carries an oversized light purple purse with a manila envelope peeking out; and as always her walker.

I have watched her many times. The first time I saw her she was struggling to pick up her walker and place it on the grass in front of her. She repeated this over and over until she got to the end of her yard and opened her mailbox.

Living on an island most people have to use the post office. Meaning we have to drive to get our mail. Elderly or disabled, or those who have someone managed to convenience the post office of a necessity; get to have their mail delivered. I was telling Mike the other day as we drove to the post office how I love getting the mail. He on the other hand has been to the post office more in the last six months than he had in the last three years.

The first time I saw her making her way to her mailbox, I wanted to stop and get her mail for her. It was painful to watch her pick up her walker, place it on the grass in front of her, scuff her feet up, and proceed to pick up her walker again and repeat this until she reached her destination. The thought came to me to organize a group of people to pay for and put it a walkway for her so she could just roll herself right out to get her mail.

My legs had no energy this morning as I ran. I could not even convince myself to push myself harder this morning. And then I spotted the bubblegum pink. A vision of struggle to complete an ordinary task made beautiful by her determination.

We never know what life will toss our way. We will face struggles and trials. We will find joy in unexpected places. We will experience pain that will never heal. We will see love in ways we never dreamed. Some days will be bad, some good, some great.

But we are gifted each day. Even if I have to pick up my own walker and plod my way to reach my destination, I will.

No comments: