Come Sail Away

Mile Marker 25:

I’m no sailor, but I know you should catch a good wind when you can.

After our boat ride, I fell into a mellow rhythm -- the relaxing kind that usually comes just as your vacation winds to a close. 

We spent our last day in Maine buoyed along by the lobster, clams, and scallops of Kennebunkport.  Perhaps the quality of a lobster roll, like so many other things, is only a state of mind.  Mine put me in Happy Town.

After a stroll around the beachy shops, we drove inland, bound for New Hampshire.  Smooth sailing.

But a rainstorm blew in.  And, contrary to its name, my C-Leg does not like to get wet!   I stayed afloat largely to the credit of my two crewmates -- Jen and Polly.  Door-to-door service...just another perk of having one leg!  But really, throughout the trip, they helped me navigate steep hills, brick sidewalks, and heavy luggage.  They gave me time to rest when I was overheated, exhausted, and uncomfortable.  And more important, they gently nudged me forward, patient by my side as I stepped into unchartered waters.  

So have many others.    Wind is invisible and a tough thing to measure.   There are so many people that have kept my sail open, pushed me ahead.  Many of them -- family, friends, co-workers, professionals (and, yes, even blog followers) -- don’t even realize what a difference they’ve made.

Last Friday morning, before I left for this trip, I received an e-mail from a very special nurse, someone I met in the hospital but now consider a friend.  Coincidentally, her name is Deb, just like my PT. 

Despite the bustle of the hospital unit, Deb always watched out for me there.   She’d come to my room to discuss concerns, answer questions, or just chat about the book I was reading.  When I was re-admitted in January, she appeared in my doorway shaking her head.  Although dismayed that I was sick again, she was thrilled to see me with crutches.  That is, until I stood up.   My hospital gown was so long it dragged on the floor.   Instinctively, she reached out for me.  “You’re going to fall in that thing!” she said.   Then, of course, she had a solution.  She ran a recon mission to pediatrics and scored me a whole bag of child-sized gowns.  They were soft, fleece-like shirts that fit perfectly.  As usual, she’d found me a safe harbor.

In her recent e-mail, Deb wrote, Smile and keep walking….One step at a time!   

I scribbled down those words and stuck them in my pocket just minutes before we left for the trip.  Each morning when I woke up, I transferred the note into the pocket of a new pair of shorts.  Those words formed a solid rigging for my sail.  The paper never left my pocket, but in moments I felt adrift, I fingered its edges and repeated those words to myself.  Then, well, I smiled and kept walking.  One step at a time, I told myself, like a whispering breeze.

Before our long drive home, Jen, Polly and I took a morning walk around the tiny town of Portsmouth.  We discovered some crafty shops and an earthy café.  On an overcast morning, a great cup of coffee can be more powerful than a nor’easter. 

We rerouted ourselves, abandoning I-95 for smoother waters.  A tailwind, it seemed, moved us faster.  We rolled down the windows to watch Massachusetts and Connecticut blow by. 

And finally last night, when I was securely anchored at home, there was an unexpected knock at the door.  It was my brother Mark, inviting me on a quick supermarket trip.  Why not?   I've heard there are gusts (a.k.a. brothers) so strong they can even carry your grocery bags!

Some days you’re just cruisin’.

So, who puts the wind in your sails?