The Veery

It took some convincing but I was allowed to drive, alone, to visit a very old friend at her cabin, the Veery, outside Great Falls. Although I hadn't seen Cyd since college we reconnected on Facebook a few years ago and she asked me to join her in Highwood, Montana.

If I had any sense of direction before my accident, the traumatic brain injury I sustained in 1991 wiped it all away. I knew I had to get myself to Great Falls first, somewhere in the middle of the state, but hadn't been there for years. I talked with Cyd on Facebook Instant Messenger to get directions and Dan worked his phone to look at maps and found an actual photo of her place on MapQuest. Yes, it's cool you can do that but my appreciation for the app pales in comparison to Dan's excitement. He printed out maps and directions and presented me with his MapQuest packet along with direction specifics so I was set, or so I thought.

The morning I departed, Dan reviewed the directions but as is the case a lot of the time, I assumed everything he said would be forgotten so I did not spare any effort there. Kissed him good bye and headed to Starbucks, my 1st stop (before even leaving town.) Once I was set with an iced coffee and an order of egg bites, I hit the road.

What I heard but forgot was that I was to use my map and directions rather than just have a voice from my phone direct me. We had trouble recently with our car's battery dying and they tried to link it it to our use of a charger so I hadn't used it since. The charger, that is. Right about then, leaving town, I should have thought, "Oh, my phone will die mid direction unless I plug it into my car," but I didn't. Didn't think it, didn't do it.

The phone did die, just outside Great Falls but I remembered the name of the exit I was supposed to take. I remembered it as I read it and was past it so I took the next exit. Twists and turns, like on and off ramps don't register correctly so I pulled over as soon as I could and shifted from phone to the package of maps. I was afraid to plug my phone in so I relied on my maps. Cyd left the cabin in search of me after my arrival time came and went and it was a good thing because I had missed a turn. I think I would've found it on my own but I was glad to see her happy face!

The Veery is a beautiful home wrapped like a gift by its surroundings so "cabin" is a misnomer.  I was happy to see that the Cyd who helped carry my bags in was the Cyd I remembered from so many years ago. We ate and drank and talked nonstop for a couple days. We sat in all the house's  key spots to enjoy the surrounding wildness as well as our wine and watched the sun set from the Veery's deck. 

The memories and feelings they bring will be with me forever so thanks Cyd!

The Walk II

  This was taken before the invasion

When I got out of the pool, filled with a squiggly mass of small bodies, I phoned Dan twice but there was no answer. I  wanted to take my teacher self away from the group and go home, which I could see from the pool. I decided to walk.  Yes, I chose to walk, an activity I dislike very much so now you know how ready I was. But I had to get there unassisted as I didn't have my trusty rollater; my walker on wheels. 

I packed up my big, plastic, yellow pool bag with my two large and now wet, towels, topped off with 2 noodles; big pieces of spaghetti that float.  I was delighted when the pool noodles fit nicely; horizontally just under the bag's handles.  I was set and my objective was in sight.

The distance to my house is only a quarter of a mile as the crow flies, but that particular route would take me through rough, not so level, empty building lots with rocks and stuff; definitely not very Lexie-friendly. I would have to stick to side walks once I navigated a grassy field. That field reminded me of my cross country coaching years when I walked the same kind of areas on a regular basis. Uneven surfaces have always been hard for me but the difficulty has skyrocketed. 

With those days in mind I set my first goal; the side walk that lead home. It was like I was listening to myself coaching middle school cross country athletes. Back then, my co-coach ran with the kids up front and I rode my recumbent three wheeler at the end as we snaked through neighborhoods and parks. There always seemed to be one kid that trailed well behind even the slowest kids. We ended up side by side and became buddies. We played games to survive the workout. 

We'd pick a landmark no more than two blocks away and that was our goal and once we got there they could walk. When we reached the spot we picked the next goal and so we plodded up the hill that was part of our daily run. I never had an athlete that quit to walk more than a few times. I coached them to pick them up and put them down in a slog; a slow jog.

No, I can't even slog so I set off on the walk home, walking. My bag was heavy and cumbersome. Walking unassisted, totally off balance was not going to be fun, but I knew I'd make it.

When I reached the my first goal, the side walk, I set another; the stop sign in the shade. I did stop in the shade but only to re assess  my handling of the bag and shifted it to my good side. I continued on, setting, reaching and resetting goals.

I made it home but it was not easy or fun.