My road came to an unexpected halt on November 9, 2010.

That morning, I was bicycling to work when a garbage truck turned across a city bike lane. I was in that bike lane.

A team of trauma surgeons saved my life, but they had to amputate my left leg. My body and life were forever changed.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.

As I learned to walk again, I measured my recovery in steps and then miles. Over time that journey grew into something more -- a way of being in the world, wherever I go.

I am a person of ability and disability. I travel in the space between. These are my postcards.

Saturday, June 17, 2023

Stand Here

Has it really been just 2 weeks since my last postcard?

I've been wanting to write, but there are times when direction is difficult to decipher.  So I'm returning to a lesson I learned way, way back in this journey:

When life feels too big, it helps to take small steps.

Standing in front of Ruby Tuesdays: my uncle Steve, me, and my dad.  I'm wearing my very first prosthetic leg.
Throwback to Mile 39 :)

Back then, small steps meant bacon -- and Ruby Tuesdays -- with my best pit crew.

(I'd still be up for that, of course!)  

But nowadays, it usually means taking time out for short, meandering walks that keep me on solid ground.

It doesn't matter how far I wander.  
It doesn't matter if I'm alone or with friends.  
It doesn't matter if I take photos or not.  

The bark of a tree and a rosebush in the foreground against a background of a yellow wall on which is cast an artistic shadow from leaves somewhere else.
There's always AWE to be found.

The smallest steps bring more clarity than any amount of thinking at home.

Tall stems of small purple flowers against a green field and a blue sky filled with clouds.
Colors bring peace.

A low morning sun, casting shadows down a city sidewalk.  There's a tree on the left and a metal garage door closed on the right.
Sunrise brings renewal.

And "found" signs bring an unexpected spark of HOPE.

A brick wall on which sits a painted, heart shaped stone which says, "Yes Stones.  Blue Butterfly on FB."
(Even if I don't quite know what they mean!)

Walking reminds me how we're all connected, like the wildfire sky that drifted into Philly from Canada.  Most of the time, connection brings comfort.

The view westward up Market Street under a smoky, pink sky.  The sun is an orange pink sphere at the top right, above a row of green trees.
Well, aside from implications
for climate change.

Sometimes on a walk, I just STOP.
Stand here.   
Feel the space of a small, single moment.

That gentle shift of focus from overwhelment...  
(Is that a word?) 

...to gratitude.  
(I know that is!)

When life feels too big, where do you stand?

My legs from the knees down in two chalk drawn footprints.  Behind me it's written in chalk: Stand Here.

I'll be right here.

Walk on,
Rebecca

(Chalk art found in Washington Square with my walking buddy, JJ.)

2 comments:

  1. Very nice reminder to get out and see what's around you, thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Walking almost always helps my state of mind, too. 💜

    ReplyDelete