A Walk to Remember

I did something I had been meaning to do for quite a while now—I went hiking. Yes—the self-proclaimed lazy pig, allergic to the gym, who considers walking to the parking lot a form of exercise—went on a five mile hike through the Bear Mountains. To call the experience amazing or refreshing, or even exhausting, would be stating the obvious. More than anything, it was humbling, because it required me to utilize a basic motor skill that we’ve all acquired (and taken for granted) from an early age: walking.

My niece recently started walking and when I saw her standing on her two tiny feet, inching towards me, I thought, there she goes taking her first few steps. Soon enough, she’s going to walk into other people’s lives, their homes, their hearts, their world—the way she entered mine a little over a year ago. My Mom, on the other hand, has been walking around for a little over 50 years now, but has been experiencing some difficulties lately due to arthritis in her knees. Her recent trip to the doctor’s temporarily put her in some disability, as the acute pain made it unbearable for her to walk even the shortest distance.

The timing of the two disparate instances couldn’t have been more ironic. There’s my niece, barely getting acquainted with her newfound ability… her newfound “independence”… the new sensation of ground beneath her feet. And then there’s my Mom—trying to adjust to being put on bed-rest, and being dependent on others for support. At one end, is my niece who graduated from crawling on fours, and at the other, my Mom who began to use a walker. Indeed, the provincial irony of life.

“C’mon… left foot, right foot,” we teach toddlers as they learn to master the art of walking at that fragile age. As we grow up, we’re taught to take things in stride—as they come. Eventually, as we continue treading on the path carved out by destiny, we end up at interesting junctures. Like now, here I am—in between two generations, united by one common thread: my brother—the one who walked around the holy fire seven times and vowed to be there for his wife, every step of the way…

Call it a hike or a ceremony, but above all else, walking is the journey we take to get from point A to B – from a date to a wedding, from a diploma to a masters, from infancy to retirement. And whether you take that journey in sneakers, flip flops, stilettos, or barefoot, make it a walk that will leave footprints for generations to come.