Are You Bitter?

detail of painting on textile
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In the past few days I have covered some ground, I tell you. I get up in the morning and strap on my AFO brace and then comes the bionic knee brace over that. I grab my walker to head to the loo. The dog walking which comes later is more of a roll as I unplug my wheelchair and grab some treats. I open the front door and untangle myself from the leash cord of a bouncing dog.

I swear. I apologize.

I roll over to the plywood ramp enabling me to make the shift in level between the flagstone and deep gravel. I cringe at the ramp’s paint color because it does not match the gravel it sits on and is a visual assault.

I shift into high gear to clear the deep driveway gravel and swerve and correct until we make it over to the more stable gravel road. I ply the dog with a treat as I take her in my lap and we tense ourselves for the brief but risky journey on the ‘big’ road. We wonder if the next car will be populated by a cell phone user in the midst of a painful marital spat and therefore crushes us in their oblivion.

We get to the safe road.

An out-of-the-package black dyed hair lady purposefully approaches us in warrior mode.

“I have high blood pressure” she says. ” When I see you coming down the street my hackles go up because I know your dog will poop in my yard and the poor mailman…” Unconsciousness begins to seep into me and I want to hit her.

I say: “You do not have to worry about me/us. I am a responsible dog poop-picker-upper.”

We roll on.

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