When you’re facing life after a major change, taking the first step can be the hardest part. Here’s a Perspective from Jane Meredith Adams.
I flew across the country to my college reunion, my first time back on campus since the stroke left me with a left hand and a left leg that barely work. I wasn’t sure how my stroke body would do schlepping across the lawn. Could I manage without too much pain? Could I manage not to think about my limp and my metal walking stick?
On Friday night, we gathered for dinner. My college roommate Daphne — I wouldn’t go to a reunion without Daphne, we have an arrangement — found seats for us next to her college boyfriend and waved me over. I made my way through a crowd of people who were busy showing off their working legs and hands.
But I had my suspicions about them. It was our forty-fifth reunion; things had happened. I knew bits: Parkinson’s in husbands, the deaths of children. The deaths of children. And the list of classmates who had died — not a short list, either.
At my seat, I leaned my walking stick against the table. The stick kept slipping off the edge and clattering to the floor. My friend Jim leaned over and picked it up and when he saw someone he knew, he shot out the stick and pretended to try to trip them. Was this funny? I thought it was.