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The Old Lady in My Bones

Rocky Road

I stood at the top of the driveway gazing down the steep slope to the entrance of the bed and breakfast. The view beyond the house showed a stunning portrait of tranquil water nestled among the mountains beneath a sapphire sky. I inhaled the heady scent of salt water and seaweed, filling my lungs with the freshness of the ocean. I looked forward to sitting on our patio with a good book and a refreshing drink. The large boulder beneath my feet was the first step suspended over a stairway of rocks jutting out from the ground. A metal railing ran alongside to guide guests to the bottom. A tidy garden crammed with brilliant flowers and greenery flanked the rocky staircase. I wondered if my knees would take me safely down. I started my cautious descent, clinging to the railing, the rough metal biting into the palm of my hand, weary of the pinch in my knees; a clumsy portrait of a slim young woman inching closer to the steep driveway that dipped to the front door. I listened to the incessant hum of bees dancing in the flowers, mindful of the uneven space between each step. I looked back and smiled at my partner, full of pride at my progress, thrilled that my knees were not shaking as much as I anticipated. The unexpected patter of shoes scampering behind startled me, and a gust of air swirled around, lifting my hair and scattering the loose leaves in the gardens as the sixty year old owner dashed by me to answer his ringing phone…

About J.G. Chayko

I am a writer living on the beautiful West Coast in Vancouver B.C. I am a poet at heart but also write prose, fiction and creative non-fiction. In my thirties, while working for a Rheumatology clinic, I was diagnosed with early Rheumatoid Arthritis. I created " The Old Lady In My Bones" to share my experience living with this disease and to create an awareness that arthritis touches people of all ages, not just the elderly.

Discussion

4 thoughts on “Rocky Road

  1. You bring back such memories for me, J. Although my rheuma is no longer so vicious, I remember clearly how slowly and painfully I negotiated stairs or sloping or uneven ground. I remember hoping, hoping that my hips, knees or ankles would hold secure with each step, how I maintained a poker face even though each step hurt me bad enough that, if I weren’t so controlled, I would cry out in agony. And oh, I remember the relief I felt at having successfully completed my journey. One thing that we can claim is toughness. Another is resilience.

    Beautiful, evocative post. You made me chuckle at the end, imagining a 60-year-old leaving you in his dust, fair springing down the stairs. Oh, my, yes. 😉

    Posted by Wren | October 7, 2012, 8:58 am
  2. Too funny! When I take my elderly parents shopping, it’s me who rides the motorized cart! I have RA and PsA in my feet and wrists – walking is a challenge most days, so I certainly know how you feel.

    Posted by Sherry | October 17, 2012, 10:57 am

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