Walking slowly

I thought this space was going to be about the things we can learn if we pay attention.  Then I've reflected on some of the losses in my life.  My lips or sleep - Oh the things I could write about my feet. 

I remember when I would watch old people walk slowly and think:  "Wow I never want to walk that slowly."  I almost always walk fast.  That is partly because my father was a tall man and he had a huge stride.  All of us were trotting behind him to keep up.  Then I married(and divorced) a tall man.  You had to walk fast or he would just leave you in the dust - or the Paris Metro.  So I have always walked fast.

It was a total surprise when my father quit walking fast.  I turned around one day and found he was far behind me.  Suddenly, he was walking slowly.  'When did this happen?' I wondered.  I was always in a hurry.  There was always somewhere else to go or something to get finished.  Those years of caring for my father and my children are a blur.  It seemed I was always behind and in a hurry. Someone wanted me to be in the other place --  School meetings for the kids; doctor's appointments for my father; a house to clean and a job to work.   I never took the time to listen. Now he has been gone some 12 years and I would gladly take one more slow stroll with him. 

Life has a way of teaching lessons .  Foot pain is my penalty  --  Plantar fasciae pain is my companion. There are things I do to help it and they are helpful and some are very effective, but my foot still hurts most nights. 

I walk more slowly and listen more often these days.