Familiar Walk

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Familiar Walk I was in a hurry and way behind as is my habit of late. I'd taken my son to the store to try and find a birthday cake for his sister who was turning five tomorrow. It was after ten at night and I was feeling inadequate as a mother for not being able to find the time to have baked her a cake in the first place. After all, wasn't that one of the reasons I was a stay at home Mom? To take care of the little things, to bake those homemade cookies, to kiss those owies and make them better; to be there for my children. I had managed to bake chocolate chip cookies today while eight children swirled around me, but had forgotten that I should have baked a cake instead. I couldn't do it tomorrow, as I had to take my youngest to Children's Hospital for yet another physical therapy appointment. There simply weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish everything that needed to be done. I was grateful that I had a bit of money in my pocket from watching four extra children today so I could buy some cake and ice cream for the party. My mind was full of what I needed to finish for the party the next day when I saw her walking ahead of me to the check out counter. Her walk was all too familiar to me. The way she held her arm close to her body and her hand clenched, her leg dragging just a bit. I smiled at her and she tentatively smiled back at me, and then put her meager purchases down on the conveyor belt. The checker rang up her sale. Four dollars and some change. Watching her count out quarters, dimes, pennies and coming up two dollars short was hard for me. I'd seen her walk. I knew, at least in my heart, what a hard time she may have had in her life. She backed away from the checker in embarrassment at not being able to come up with enough to buy a little bit of food. She ducked her head, barely glancing at me and mumbling for me to go ahead. I pulled some money out of my pocket and handed it to the cashier, letting him know that I would make up the difference. Her eyes widened as she looked at me in surprise. She held out her good hand, clenched mine and said thank you ma'am. Thank you so much. I told her she was very welcome. She looked at my purchases on the conveyor belt. It was obvious by the Mini Mouse cake and ice cream that I was throwing a birthday party. She asked me if I was and I said yes, my daughter was turning five tomorrow. She smiled and said that she had a four-year-old daughter and then patting her tummy said that she had another one on the way. I smiled and congratulated her. She told me that she would pay me back the money if she saw me in the store again. I told her not to worry about it, that it was a gift. She thanked me again and limped away. My eyes welled up as I watched this young woman walk away from me. I was seeing my own two year old in twenty years. Arm held close to her body, hand clenched, right foot dragging a little. I wanted to run after her and ask her if it had happened to her too. Had she had a stroke in the womb? Had she had a stroke as a child? Was it hard for her to get along in the world, to tie her own shoes, get through the taunts of children as she went through school, date, find a loving mate. Was she happy? Was she ok with the way she was? Did her Mom still have the same ache in her heart that I have in mine watching her child struggle within a body damaged so early in life? Maybe the next time I see her I will be strong enough to ask her the questions tugging at my heart and soul. And then maybe I will introduce her to a two year old that walks as she does.
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