Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Hand in hand we walk............

We come out of the building, it is bitter cold and the wind is closing at 50 miles an hour, trees are shaking and garbage cans are rolling in the street, they had just been serviced.
I hold on to my hat, I have a bad hairday and besides that I can't get cold on the head or the darn pain will come back in a flash. Forget what they call it, think it is neuralgia....trying to remember.

I feel a hand taking my hand and helping me slowly across the street to his parked car.
He motions where the step is up and it is high. He does not want me to fall again, to be sure.
I see every pebble in the way and every branch which came down while we were in the building.
Reaching the car he helps me in and tucks my long skirt inside then takes the seat belt and locks me
in tight. I hurt my back last week and I am not able to turn just yet, he remembers and does the
buckling for me.
I am becoming emotional, he gets in the car, looks at me and asks if I am OK.
I shake my head letting the hat go for it is safe now.

I am going back in my memory bank and remember how 40 years ago I had to hold his hand
all the time. He was a moving target and wanted to see what was ahead. He was always curious about plants, bugs, moving objects. He had no fear , his mother did and held on for dear life.

Now I am sitting in his car and he had major concerns over my safety.
I love that son of mine.

The joy of walking....

Let me start out to say that I am not a walker, I walked so much in my childhood that I figured enough is enough. Not so. Especially now when 82 nearing 83 one should walk.
Best advice I can give you is to get a small dog with a small bladder, he/she may need at least 3 or 4 walks a day.
My Maltese Bijou starts early in the morning when he wakes me with wet kisses on my nose.
I get it. I know the drill. Get up and walk. I am thinking that now I am retired I should at least sleep till  10 am and not till 8.00 am. Bijou has other plans.
At noon same story , so there I am with my bowl of soup and there comes the scratching on my leg:"Mommy time to go...lets say now!".
at 5 o clock the same and then a short walk before we go to bed.
Well it adds up and makes me feel very important.
Bijou does not daddle he has a steady run and wants me to run too. I have to hold him in because I get out of wind before he does. Our streets here are not flat, I go up and down, up and down such as the valley had designed itself and builders followed the natural flow.
So my walks with my best friend last at least 20 minutes x 3 = 1 hour a day.
Not bad.
I only see one old lady on my street doing the same with her mutt. The other walkers are all young with gigantic dogs, they look like ponies. Just like steps and 3 floored housing not for the elderly.

Now and then I walk my son's dog. A lovely lady, lazy, moving very slowly , investigating every leaf and
puddle along the walk. Takes at least 20 minutes to finish what she should have done when we left the house, she hardly moves, so it is not something I can consider as a "walk". It's a very slow romantic dance step depending on the nose of the lovely Corgy! So the Queen of England has them in bunches but she also has servants in multiples.

I adore my Maltese, he his my second one but the love I get from this animal can't be measured.
He is by my side all the time. If you see me you will see Bijou, every room in this house is his domain as is mine and he looks up at me to make sure I did not fall. When I did falll he sat next to me and did not budge.
He also loves his Uncle Bob. This is such a jewel I named him right,