Bravadita is in London. My sister is in Boston. My mother is in la-la land, disintegrating before my eyes. To top it off, the clouds won't go away. Summer refuses to appear. We've been lucky to hit 70°. I guess some people like it.Last week I was trotting around the reservoir at Mt. Tabor Park. I happened to spy a young man trying to push a rather large young woman in a wheelchair along a dusty dirt path. The chair was heading downhill. The slope was getting steeper and bumpier with clumpy grass and weeds. The young caregiver was about half the size of his charge, and I could predict impending disaster.
I trotted up the path to intercept them. “You need some help?” I asked. A modern day Jack and Jill, I thought to myself.
They didn't say no, so I helped the young man turn the wheelchair around so his body could block the chair from escaping down the hill. I lent my weight as backup, trying to find places to grab that didn't involve her purse, her lap, or her long hair. The skinny dude was pink with exertion, casting anxious glances over his shoulder at the terrain. I was breathing hard myself.
Soon we got the wheelchair down the slope onto a smoother path and turned her around so the chair was facing forward again. “Okay, take care!” I said cheerfully, stepping back.
As I walked on my way, I reflected on what had just happened. It was a slice of real life: We sweated together for a minute and then parted ways. I realized I hadn't actually looked either of them in the face. Is that odd? I wouldn't recognize them again if they weren't in the same configuration, perched precariously on a steep dirt path.
I was glad I had arrived before she went barreling down the hill. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after ... rolling over Jack and breaking the rest of his skinny bones.
Offroading in a wheelchair seems a risky thing to do. But what do I know, I'm not in a wheelchair. Breaking free and speeding downhill might be perfectly sensible to someone who feels trapped in a seated position all the time.
