I meet the great eight mile walker, Betty,coming towards me in the bright sunlight. She is wearing a T-shirt and black pants and long silver earrings. She shows me where yesterday on Mother's Day she fell off the trail and rolled down a sharp slope into a ravine. She has only a small gash on her wrist.
"Bouts of dizzyness", she says.
"I have nerve damage from the shingles." She points to the right side of her head.
"You don't want to get shingles. It was worse than cancer and I have had cancer three times. The first was 'carcinoma'. It goes straight down. And then colon cancer. The last time, it was liver cancer".
"My daughter asked me not to walk today, but I am"
"Yes, keep on walking", I say.
On the path, at our feet, there is a dried up snake in the shape of an 'S'.
In the air, the unbearable sweetness of honeysuckle.
Boo is eating ripe mulberries that have fallen to the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment