The Long Walk Home

Stories from the Road

Thursday, March 21, 2024

I was still a few miles from home when out of the blue and for no predictable reason I hit the wall. My energy was instantly gone like someone had siphoned all the gas out of my tank while I was looking the other way. This occasionally happens and hasn’t meant anything medically, but regardless I always panic. What will I do? How will I get home? Visions of me becoming so weak I’ll have to lay down on the sidewalk flood my mind. Catastrophe is always first up on my speed dial.
 
Next up on speed dial…Gary! Call Gary! If no one is in at my partner’s store, maybe he can lock up and come save me! But putting out that SOS comes at the cost of pride. I already had to call him a month ago when shin splints hobbled me.
 
Groping around for another way out I have a wild idea: Maybe if Stephen, the nice guy on West Broadway, is out on his porch I could ask him to drive me home. Or his wife Gale. But that would be weird. I give myself stern instructions not to do that.
 
Instead I slow way down. Waaaay dowwwnnnn. Something about this gait triggers a memory of Maggie, our Newfoundland, on the day she was hit by a car about 20 years ago. Heading off to work, I’d found her on the front stoop which is odd because I’d already hooked her up to her run. I must not have latched it properly.
 
“What are you doing here?” I asked, quickly bending over to grab her collar before she got any ideas about making this difficult.
 
I tugged but she wouldn’t budge. “Hey, we’ve got to go,” I said, tugging again. Still, she wouldn’t move. That’s when I noticed her very sad eyes and the blood coming out of her ear and the big, jagged gash on her side, none of it immediately visible against her black coat. My heart started to pound. What was I going to do? I couldn’t pick her up; she’s over 150 pounds! Do you call 911 in a situation like this?
 
The idea of Maggie being loaded into an ambulance was absurd so in a panic I call Elizabeth, my friend who loves and trains dogs. She’s 30 minutes away but what else would I do? When she and her husband roll in with their pick-up, Dick starts pulling out lumber which I think must be for the stretcher while Elizabeth asks me if I’ve tried putting a leash on Maggie to lead her.
 
“No, I never thought of that since she wouldn’t even get up,” I say.
 
Elizabeth doesn’t say anything, just walks over to Maggie and talks to her softly while clipping on the leash.
 
“Come with me, Maggie,” she says giving the leash a gentle tug. I watch in disbelief as Maggie heaves herself to standing. With Elizabeth softly encouraging her, Maggie slowly makes her way to the truck like a very old and very tired person. I’m dumbstruck. Why would a leash make a difference? We then helped her up the ramp and into the truck.
 
Maggie thankfully survived; I never forgot the wonder of how you can get something injured to go with you by talking gently and leading the way.
 
I think about Maggie and Elizabeth for the rest of my walk. By the time I turn onto my street, dreading that final trudge up the hill, I notice my energy has returned. I had an odd feeling of having walked myself home.     
 
Signing off today with a loving kindness meditation:
 
May you feel safe. May you feel loved. May you feel strong enough to walk all the way home.
 
E