For my birthday my daughter and I went up to Chamonix in the French Alps. It was summer and we hiked near the glacier, had a nice lunch, a nap and then decided what we really needed to do was to get champagne.
We found a quaint little restaurant with outdoor tables next to a river where the water ran Coke bottle green. The bridge and barriers to the river were covered with flower pots filled with pink and purple petunias.
Whenever Llara and I are together we laugh and talk. I noticed a woman probably in her 90s hobbling with a cane. She was with a woman in her 60s, and they looked like mother and daughter. I pointed them out to Llara and said, that could be us in 30 years.
We talked some more and then I said. "I like the idea of a cane. I'll be riding on a bus, see a handsome young man and can trip him or poke him in the butt. Who would think a little old lady would do that?"
"Mother, mother, mother. You definitely will not have a cane. Maybe a walker."
"Better. With a walker, I can pin 'em to the wall."
Llara who mastered eye rolling at five, eye rolled. "Great I can see all the calls I will get from the Argelès and Geneva police. "Ms Nelson, we have your mother again. Oui, she attacked yet another young man."
It has become a joke between us. Although I know needing a cane or a walker is not a matter of choice, I do hope no matter what happens to me, I can turn it into a positive. If Llara doesn't allow me a cane, I wonder if there are any wheelchair races to enter?
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