Walk With Me

“Come and walk with me?” my Grandma would ask.* I remembered it like it was yesterday. I was only five years old, reaching my tiny hand high to place it inside my Grandma’s larger, guiding one.* She would take me on wonderful daily walks around our neighborhood, pointing out certain houses, showing me bits of nature, teaching me about life.* I recall how large everything seemed back then, trees and people looming high above me in that somewhat fuzzy, adult world of theirs.* Vivid recollections remained in my mind of the street corners we always turned down, the secret dirt path we always were able to find, the coming back again to our friendly, familiar home.

As I grew older, I relearned those streets from a new perspective.* What had seemed like a long journey as a child, had really only been a twenty minute walk.* What had been my “secret dirt path”, full of intrigue and excitement, was only a swath of missing sidewalk squares, replaced and renewed when I was a mere thirteen.* The one thing I never lost, though, was my love of walking and my enjoyment of all things new and adventurous.

So here I was, at twenty-two, walking each day for the peace it provided me.* With my Grandma, now only a memory, and my parents both gone, as well, my long walks offered me the connection I needed to the past and the excitement that would guide me out to my future.* This morning I was out quite early and, as it was May, the brightly colored birds would be flitting through the treetops, offering me their tuneful melodies, as if to say, “Here I am – look at me – watch me fly – see how my colors catch the sun.”

So wrapped up, was I, in the thrill of my morning explorations, I failed to react to the car that came barreling down the road at top speed.* By the time I had noticed, and its horrifying image had registered in my mind, it had already set into motion a new path for my life. ******** ********
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Marcus walked up to the main nurse’s desk at Alemando County Hospital.* He was on a break, after his ambulance crew had dropped off its last new patient, and the hand holding his hot cup of coffee shook with trepidation.*

*“Mary,” he spoke with hesitation to the brown-haired nurse manning the station, “That golden-haired girl I brought in here last week,” he paused a moment, swallowing hard, “How is she doing?”

“Kaitlin Adams?* Not too great.* They pinned and set the leg, but she’s still in a coma.* That was some bang to the head she received.”

“Yeah, I know,” Marcus replied, “ I was first on the scene.”* Can I go in and see her?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Mary urged, “She could do with a visitor.* She’s got no one else who comes.”

Marcus ventured slowly into Kaitlin’s room, the beeping machines voicing the only greeting he received.* He sat on the hard chair next to her bed and looked down upon her, as if for the first time.* His eyes gazed upon the fair-skinned, young woman, who was quietly laying under the pallor of the hospital lighting, her honey-blonde curls covered by gauzy, wrapped bandages.

Kaitlin. What a pretty name, Marcus thought.* His eyes drifted down the blankets, trying to imagine her as she was, before the accident.

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Spice is the wonder and excitement in your world.