Hurry Slowly

Today I walked in the green grass that grew tall as if to make up for the dry summer when the arid lawn turned into a carpet of scorched yellow. No amount of watering helped and I finally gave up.

The footpath to the lake, well-tracked by deer coming through daily, is semi-green, even as the weeds have started dying. I am walking on the same path my mom used to stroll daily with our beloved cat Bogart. She used her straw hat to shield her eyes from the sun and the handle of an old broom to steady her gait through the tall grasses.

The neighbor on the other side of the pond used to mow the weeds surrounding the pond because he was afraid mom would get bitten by a snake crawling from its nest or from the water to warm in the sun. There was no young snake wrangler Gabe to protect her, so the best move was to mow the tall grass, carving a safe path for my elderly mom.

Her picture walking this path has made it into my children’s book, Being Bogart. I cherish that moment in time and the memory of it when I snapped the picture. I still have her colorful straw hat, resting by her glasses and the last piece of crocheted doily she made from memory with red thread during her art classes. Red was mom’s favorite color.

Today I am wearing a white straw hat which I purchased on Hollywood Beach during a hot August day while strolling on the boardwalk with my daughter Mimi and my husband. We bought new beach shoes too that day and we tried them in the crystal blue waters of Florida’s Atlantic Ocean.

This straw hat reminded me that I have finally become my mother after all, salt, and pepper hair too, more salt than pepper, a slow and unsteady gait helped by my regular hiking sticks. Regaining my ability to walk after a severe relapse of MS with transverse myelitis is giving me a new appreciation for life and for the ability to walk however slowly.

Years ago, when mom started walking unhurriedly because of arthritis and ageing, we were at the track, and she implored me to slow down at her pace. Sometimes I did, sometimes I did not – I walked faster or ran. As a young person, I took my ability to walk and fast for granted. Little did I know that fate was going to teach me a very painful and valuable lesson – if we are lucky to live long enough, fast walking or walking at all becomes a thing of the past.

Now it is my turn to feel what mom must have felt in the twilight of her physical ability but never expressed to me so clearly how disappointed she was that I rushed life and did not heed the old Latin saying, Festina lente, (Hurry slowly).

Now MS has forced me to slow down in many ways, and I came to the realization that I am my mom now - life and mobility are precious.

My hat is not mom’s gardening hat; it is more fashionable but still a hat which I must embrace with twilight dignity.