Tomorrow I will start packing. Tomorrow is our last day here in the mountains. How time flies. Am I ready to return to the reality of my life back home? I don't know. There are some wonderful things to look forward to, of course. And seeing my granddaughter is up at the top of the list. My sons. And daughter-in-law. My special friends. My garden..... although as I speak, there are storms lashing the village. How much of my garden survives remains to be seen.
David will be getting ready to go back to university soon, for his final year. I need to chase lawyers, and other real stuff like taxing cars and paying bills. But thinking of that side of my life can wait. I am not home yet.
You see, for a few short weeks, I am a person here. I am not useless. I can help around the home. I make a difference, even if it is a small one. My family value what I can do. Because of the way this house is designed, with wide passages, and stairs, and big rooms, and stairs which are shallow and easy to manage, I can cope more easily. The garden is huge and level. I can go for walks, because there are well maintained paths everywhere with plenty of benches if I need to rest and places to stop for coffee. There are also many people walking, so I never worry. There is a free bus service around the village, and the bus sinks lower when it stops, so it is easy to get on and off.
Everyone goes walking with leki poles, so I don't feel different. I look normal. If I need a doctor, there is an excellent one just down the road. There is a physiotherapist directly opposite. There is a swimming pool (indoor and outdoor) nearby.
Here, I am just me. Not the slightly broken me, who cannot do anything much any more. So add the mountains to the mix and it all seems to work. We even have a shopping trolley thing to pull along, as so many people do here. Again, it is normal, and not something slightly eccentric.
I started writing this last night, and the "tomorrow" is now "today" and the pile of stuff is growing in the garage. But the packing of the car can wait till the morning. David and I drove up to the little waterfall early this morning, and spent a wonderful hour there in the forest. No-one else was around, and it was just perfect. Sitting on the rocks, and watching the water cascade down the mountain into the little stream....... and the sun came out and turned the water into liquid gold.
It was hard to leave.
How I long for the time when the hospital thing will be over and I will be in a postion to never have to label myself as disabled, or dented or broken. You know, when dealing with officialdom, you have to focus so much on what you can't do instead of what you can do, or what you make yourself do, and it is so foreign to me, and it makes me seriously uncomfortable. I want to just focus on the me I have become and see where life takes me. So yes, the lawyers go straight to the top of the list. When I get home.
So I am sad to leave. I am sad because here I feel whole. Not defective. Sure, I pay the price for walking in the forests and up on the mountains. But it is worth every pain killer, and every sleepless night.
My body may moan, but my spirit soars. My soul is filled with joy. I feel free.