I took my first stroll today since being sidelined by Lyme five months ago.

The weather has been absolutely lousy this past week, and we welcomed the sun this afternoon after a week of cold, damp rain.

We had an early dinner. I put out my Grandmother’s china, and we each had a wine glass to use, to which my daughter asked, “Why do we have fancy glasses tonight?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” I responded, “Can’t we use fancy things once in a while?”  She grabbed her glass by the stem and took a sip of her milk.

For months, I was told to ‘eat right and exercise’, which seemed futile since I could barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my daughter for lunch without having to go back to bed for hours. And tonight, I actually took a stroll. For forty minutes. Progress comes with slow, baby steps.

My daughter zoomed ahead of me on her rollerblades, turning around to skate back to me each time when I was still so far behind her. She wanted to go down some of the side streets in our neighborhood, but I reminded her that our walk tonight was only to the end of the road and back to our house. I wasn’t ready to do more than that.

We passed a man welding in his garage, another bagging the grass he just cut on his carpet of a lawn. Colorful tulips, creeping pink and white phlox, and pastel dogwoods were all in bloom. Squirrels raced across the street, birds flew overhead.

On our way back to our home, my daughter held my hand, skating as I strolled.





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