I watch her move in beauty and grace even though others may perceive her steps as halting, her body swinging to and fro in an irregular gait.
Her hands reach out to raise others up even as her fingers grip handles of steel crutches to hold her own body erect. These hands manipulate nature’s loom… expertly threading the warp and weave of her complex life; teaching, creating, sewing, quilting, cooking, painting, and writing. Whether caressing the pages of beloved books, or stroking piano keys to fill the air with music, her fingertips still reach out to gently touch both the people and animals she cares so much about.
Her blue eyes, I’m sure, have stared back down the long tunnel of time, seeing a past filled with pain and doctors whose scalpels cut deep. Yet these eyes also look kindly upon the present…gaze wistfully into the future…seeing beauty and worth in every person or animal destined to cross her path.
I imagine, since childhood, her ears have listened to countless mocking whispers and endured cruel cutting laughter yet have remained so sensitive they can discern anguished distress calls from those whose guarded pleas often go unheard and unnoticed by others.
Her voice has long remained silent, refusing to complain about her unfair lot in life, yet it is frequently heard speaking words of encouragement, hope, and praise for others whose walk through life has been less complicated than hers.
Her heart has no doubt ached with the knowledge that her life journey has been much more difficult than others yet unfailingly; it remains warm and caring, willing to offer love and friendship to those who seek her company.
As I did: She is my friend, Traci.
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