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Finding the Stride
- General Fiction / Flash Fiction
- 9 views
- 4 years ago
Maybe some of you can relate to this -- in many ways. So I'm throwing it out there for what it might be worth to you. Tell me what you think.
Finding the Stride
1977, I strode down the mountain trail with conviction not
once faltering. Having just heard of Elvis’s death, I
was saddened, thinking of the eventually of it all. I was
proud of my legs, short, muscular, strong. They had always
carried me well.
1987, I followed the basketball with alacrity, a little
backyard fun with my now grown kids. At forty-one those mighty
oaks upon which I still stood were no less strong. I smiled
1997, packing the last of my treasures, so many boxes, a
new life to go to, a new city, lots of stairs. I didn’t
stop. I knew the stride and rhythm of my legs would continue
to carry me up, up and away.
2008, The heart attack was sneaky, sweating, hot, cold,
terribly weak. I laid in the bed and recollected the span
within spans that go into a life, and worried. Being helped up
first to a sitting position, then, standing, my legs shook
but held. Thank God they were trying.
2011, I watched my body and soul separate, the three
specters waiting patiently, my legs moving restlessly, wanting
to go, looking for their stride. No, no you are my rocks, my
lifeline, don’t fail me now. But alas sometimes reality
outshines our feelings and finding your strides means the
enjoyment of a fall day, cane in hand, a slower more
purposeful step, but just as much joy.
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Founded by Steve & Judy