How big is the window through which you see the world?
Mine is 36 inches wide and has been for nearly two years.
To be accurate, it’s the screen door on the front of the house. Currently, the window is open and the wind is streaming in, just the way I like it.
From there, it’s a straight shot down a perfectly useless hallway and to the recliner, from where I have conducted the world’s business daily.
I love my condensed view. It helps that I live on one of the busiest streets in town. The high school parking lot is directly across the street.
The elementary school is a block down.
And the street is the gateway to one of the larger subdivisions in town.
I recognize vehicles, if not students who drive them all.
The cowboy trucks park against the sidewalk at the back of the lot, arriving around 7:20 in the morning.
The girls in their little cars drive the fastest and are the last to arrive, usually late.
Mine workers leave around 4 a.m., and when it’s really cold out, they warm up their trucks for a long time.
There are a few hearty year-round dog walkers, but this time of year their numbers explode.
There is a Corgi with elderly parents who I swear have lost combined hundreds of pounds since they started walking. They walk twice a day, about 8 a.m., and 4 p.m.
There is the tiny white dog, who trails without a leash behind his dad. That makes me very nervous.
There is my nurse neighbor with her adorable Ollie, who walk the minute she gets home from her 12-hour day shift at Wyoming Medical Center.
And best of all this time of year are the kids. A few still have what I call bikes, but nearly all have scooters with handles.
Around and around the parking lot they go, usually in large packs. From big kids doing tricks to the tiniest one in her bright pink helmet, they come out after school and sometimes stay until dark.
Families with strollers take to the streets after supper, wringing that last bit of energy out of the kids before bedtime.
Next week, I am vacating the chair to get a new hip in Douglas. Following that and what I expect to be grueling physical therapy, perhaps my world view will increase.
To sit on my yellow chair on the front porch would seem like a miracle.
To walk to the sidewalk and back would be incredible.
The surgery is scheduled on the Feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary and my son’s namesake.
I have come to understand that it’s not my fault that my hips are filled with arthritis and “about the worst“ he’s seen, according to my awesome surgeon.
It is my fault that my anxiety ridden phobia prevented me from going to the doctor for two years after the pain started.
I do know that my delay will make recovery more difficult.
There is a needlepoint somewhere that says “if you pray, don’t worry.”
Somehow, that doesn’t do it for me.
Mine should say “I pray unceasingly and I still worry constantly.”
Whatever your world view, I wish you a life without pain when you sit, without screaming when you attempt to stand, to be able to brush your teeth without your leg giving out, and as wonderful a constant caregiver as I have.
I know darn well he didn’t sign up for any of this when he invited me to dinner and an Anne Murray concert.
Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at: SallyAnnShurmur@gmail.com
