(this is a repost from my old MSN blog--I'm feeling the pinch and need to get my arse to work on MSNDOEIS--Make second novel deadline or else I'm screwed )
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One morning while GMR, Not Quite Fat Dog, and I walked Lake Junaluska, I saw an elderly couple coming our way down the paved path; it was really as if they were standing still and we were walking towards them. The husband held onto his wife almost as if hugging onto her, but instead he was guiding her as she slowly made her way. Her left arm was limp at her side, with the fingers curled inward almost clawlike, and her sluggish steps were pigeon-toed. Her eyes turned inward, clouded, as she made those deliberate steps. Her husband stayed close to her, measuring step for step, never taking his eyes from her. I didn’t say “Good Morning,” for it felt an intrusion, but simply passed them, leaving them to their privacy.
A week and a half later, I saw them again. The woman still walked slowly, her arm still at her side, her fingers still curled; however, this time her steps weren’t as if she were trying to pull them out of mud, and the toes weren’t pulled inward as much. And in those eyes this time, I saw a flicker of something—hope? Her husband was still close by her side, this time only holding tightly onto her arm, still guiding her. He glanced up at me and I smiled; he smiled briefly and then was all hers again. The woman never looked my way; perhaps afraid to take her focus from the path ahead.
Three weeks passed. Off in the distance, I could see a couple walking toward us, but I wouldn’t know it was the elderly couple until they came close, and when I saw who it was, I smiled. This time, the woman’s steps were livelier, toes forward, and though her left arm was still at her side, she was moving it back and forth a little, and, the fingers weren’t curled in as stiffly. Her husband only lightly held onto her arm, cupping her elbow. Her eyes glittered, a smile lit up her face. Her husband smiled, too. And they both looked at me as I said, “Good Morning!” The husband answered, “Mornin’!” and the woman gave me a beautiful smile, and in that smile I saw hope and love and determination—her face shone with possibility. They both looked as if they had just shared the funniest, greatest joke they’d ever heard, as if they were about to laugh aloud at the absurdity of it all.
They passed me by, and I turned to look at them. I thought about sacrifice. I thought about how lucky some people are to have each other. What would have happened to this woman without this man to hold her up until she grew strong enough to hold herself up?
It’s been a week since I’ve seen the elderly couple, but when we walk the lake area, as we did this morning, I will keep a lookout for them. I want to see her progress. But, mainly, I want to see the look of this couple. I want to know that sometimes, somewhere, somehow, some marriages look li
ke this one does: holding each other up, keeping side by side step by step measure by measure. Trust—that’s the word I’m searching for. And sacrifice. And maybe love is in there somewhere.
How exquisite.
Namaste.
(google image from http://www.starfishcircle.com/.a/6a00d83479fc3f69e201053649d42d970b-320wi)
One morning while GMR, Not Quite Fat Dog, and I walked Lake Junaluska, I saw an elderly couple coming our way down the paved path; it was really as if they were standing still and we were walking towards them. The husband held onto his wife almost as if hugging onto her, but instead he was guiding her as she slowly made her way. Her left arm was limp at her side, with the fingers curled inward almost clawlike, and her sluggish steps were pigeon-toed. Her eyes turned inward, clouded, as she made those deliberate steps. Her husband stayed close to her, measuring step for step, never taking his eyes from her. I didn’t say “Good Morning,” for it felt an intrusion, but simply passed them, leaving them to their privacy.
A week and a half later, I saw them again. The woman still walked slowly, her arm still at her side, her fingers still curled; however, this time her steps weren’t as if she were trying to pull them out of mud, and the toes weren’t pulled inward as much. And in those eyes this time, I saw a flicker of something—hope? Her husband was still close by her side, this time only holding tightly onto her arm, still guiding her. He glanced up at me and I smiled; he smiled briefly and then was all hers again. The woman never looked my way; perhaps afraid to take her focus from the path ahead.
Three weeks passed. Off in the distance, I could see a couple walking toward us, but I wouldn’t know it was the elderly couple until they came close, and when I saw who it was, I smiled. This time, the woman’s steps were livelier, toes forward, and though her left arm was still at her side, she was moving it back and forth a little, and, the fingers weren’t curled in as stiffly. Her husband only lightly held onto her arm, cupping her elbow. Her eyes glittered, a smile lit up her face. Her husband smiled, too. And they both looked at me as I said, “Good Morning!” The husband answered, “Mornin’!” and the woman gave me a beautiful smile, and in that smile I saw hope and love and determination—her face shone with possibility. They both looked as if they had just shared the funniest, greatest joke they’d ever heard, as if they were about to laugh aloud at the absurdity of it all.
They passed me by, and I turned to look at them. I thought about sacrifice. I thought about how lucky some people are to have each other. What would have happened to this woman without this man to hold her up until she grew strong enough to hold herself up?
It’s been a week since I’ve seen the elderly couple, but when we walk the lake area, as we did this morning, I will keep a lookout for them. I want to see her progress. But, mainly, I want to see the look of this couple. I want to know that sometimes, somewhere, somehow, some marriages look li
ke this one does: holding each other up, keeping side by side step by step measure by measure. Trust—that’s the word I’m searching for. And sacrifice. And maybe love is in there somewhere.How exquisite.
Namaste.
(google image from http://www.starfishcircle.com/.a/6a00d83479fc3f69e201053649d42d970b-320wi)
Little Norah Kathryn -- AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! She's so cute ... can't wait for next month to see her!
14 comments:
That was a beautiful story to relay. Thanks.
Yes you are so right to Awwww, she is cute! I bet you don't need a countdown calender! *grin*
That kid is so stinkin' cute! :O)
What a beautiful and inspirational story!
This really brightened my day.
What a beautiful story and thanks for sharing it with us!
Greetings from London.
Great, Kat. Now you've made me cry over breakfast. Never mind, though. Your story is beautiful. I hope that couple is still walking their path together every day.
Yep, great story.
And what a pose for one so young! Whilst here in the UK we are not so prone to use the word "cute", I am obliged to say that really is one cute little girl.
Beautiful story, and beautiful baby. :)
I know its in there somewhere Kat! What a wonderful example of two people being a couple.
What a lovely post. Thank you.
Looks like the baby is working on her Ninja moves.:)
It would be wonderful to know this couples whole story. How lovely and inspirational.
What a beautiful story in so many ways. That baby is darlin. I'm sure your counting down the days until she's in your arms!
Kat, your story reminds me of my marriage of 45 years and the support of my fine man during hard times. And at the end I supported him during the hard times. There are marriages filled with trust, enduring love and total commitment. You wrote about this so beautifully.Thank you.
Indeed a beautiful story. One would like to think it is always like that, but reality tells us no, that all couples have their times. At least I think so.
I watched a husband caring for his wife at the hot tub at the YMCA today. She'd had a stroke and had been so cold. He was so careful in his help. Both well into their 80's.
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