What I wouldn’t give to walk for hours
Alone with nothing but my thoughts and the city, getting lost in the store windows, stopping only to capture the moment with a great photo and bottling it all up for later use on a rainy day. The comfortable shoes on my feet enough to keep me going. My knee, steady, and allowing my stride to match that of strangers as I cross the busy streets. My heart, full of adventure and ready for whatever the next few blocks may bring. Headphones on, a perfect soundtrack made better by the noise of the sirens and horns seeping through the gap in my ear. Best not to adjust my airpod, it wouldn't be New York City without these sounds. Maybe I make my way to Chelsea and sit on a park bench, not because I need a break, but simply because the scenery is too beautiful to walk past, and some time is required to take it all in. And by the scenery, I mean the people. Scurrying around, going nowhere and everywhere all at once. Some on their phones, while others hold a briefcase or a toddler's hand. Everyone is going about their day, getting in their steps, and closing the circles on their fitness app. As for me? I'm not doing it for the fitness, I'm doing it for my soul. Free from the worries of a limb loss survivor. No sweat to wipe, except for the droplets that formed on my forehead as I power walked across 42nd street after the light had changed colors. No suction loss from a prosthesis system that hasn't had significant advancement in over twenty years. All my joints, still where God put them, securely attached within me and gliding with the ease of a mere 29 years.
I'm thankful that I've always been a dreamer, the kind of person who literally stops to smell the roses and consciously creates a memory. It's how I can pull these moments from the bank in my brain where they live and feel them once more. Wrapping them around me like a warm hug, and remember that I'm lucky to have had them as the frustration builds, knowing it will never be as simple as it once was. Now I need supplies, more breaks, more help, and nothing is smooth about my stride. I can't help but hope that one day, things will be a little easier for those of us living with limb loss. Going on a hike won't have to be such a huge accomplishment because technology and surgical medicine will be advanced enough to give us back more of what we've lost.
Until that day comes bearing miracles for our community, I will be here, testing the limits of this prosthesis, hyping up my fellow amputees, making people uncomfortable with my one-leg jokes, and walking until my leg falls off.
