A Walker for the Waves

After days without creamer, I left my unit in Sandestin last week in search of coffee condiments. I traversed the concrete hallway certain my mother wouldn't let me down. 

I was wrong.

But while I sipped charcoal coffee in my parents beach abode, I found myself engaged in a rather lengthy conversation with my nephews, Trey and Drew - in a British accent.

I'm not sure why I impersonate Mary Poppins on occasion. Perhaps I just get bored being me. Thus imagining I'm the umbrella clad nanny who speaks her mind with resolute calm and preciseness allows for an alter ego that empowers my mito challenged body. 

Ask my voice and piano students. They may have an answer.

Regardless, thirty minutes of British conversation made up for the lack of creamer that morning. I don't remember what we talked about but Bert and Michael (aka. Trey and Drew) recharged my beach weary soul more than coffee that day.

And later, when I made it to the beach after sun scorching hours, I stared at the waves for a long while.

The cousins had entered the surf and as an avid fan of ocean derring-do, I longed to join them. While heading to the breakers unassisted was not an option, it suddenly occurred to me that I could use the walker that helped me navigate the soft sand.

I don't use a walker at home much these days, but I learned years ago that a short walk on the beach can wear out my ankles and right leg faster than anything else. As I pondered our upcoming trip a few weeks ago, it dawned on me that I could use my least favorite, grey walker to make it to the ocean's edge with greater ease.

And it worked wonderfully!

But I got bored sitting in the chair. And felt myself come alive when I considered a romp in the waves with my walker. Don wasn't able to join us this year, so Nathan stood point guard and kept me and my walker from swirling with the surf.

We made it to a sand bar where the essence of Susan surged through me in the deepest life giving way.

A young girl looked my way and said, "Your sunglasses might fall off!" 

"That's OK," I replied, knowing we were far more concerned about my joints than my sunglasses. 

Nathan finally offered, "Mom, don't you think you should go in now?"

"You know I never want a party to end."

With his gentle nudge, however, we started our retreat. Back on the beach, I sat in the sand as bubbly water rocked me to and fro. 

When I stood about thirty minutes later, I realized red flags flew, warning of rough surf. So not only had I conquered the waves, I'd stood firm (with help) in red flag tides. 

The memory still makes me smile in deep triumph. And reminds me that we need to wash off that walker so it won't rust before our next journey to the beach. 

Because sometimes it's just the little things - like nonsense talk over coffee and a walk in the waves with a walker - that make all the difference in the world.