Under Construction

It seems to me that we are all under construction all our lives and that some of us need more regular maintenance than others. Maya has torn a tendon her her back leg and will be three legged for the remainder of her life - regrettably, there is no upside to this, as she is equally fast on three legs as she is on four. This will, my vet tells me, eventually develop into arthritus and shorten her life.

My friend Tricia, now confined to a single bed in her breakfast room and dependent on her children and friends for the smallest thing, weary to her bones and in constant pain, still manages a smile at the hamburger and onion rings I bring her for supper. She can't take her socks off by herself and every move brings on a fresh wave of agony, but she still manages that smile. Her children put aside their lives and needs to care for her.

My friend, Iris, still in a walking cast, stubbornly fighting her way through physical therapy and facing empty nest syndrome come fall, still works and stays in touch, telling me that the worst is behind her and being grateful for the ability to have her beloved daughter drive her to Cape Cod for a brief weekend. She managed the wheelchair, the walker, and the strangers who invaded her home to help get her well with dignity.

My friend, AJ, looking perhaps just the tiniest bit older after the unexplained seizure and still forbidden to drive, hating having his freedom and independence compromised, still takes the stage from nine to one and plays his heart out, the sweet sound of his harmonica blowing the blues well into the night. He counts the days til late summer when his doctor will allow him to have his keys back and swallows the indignity of dependence.

I live in a small town, and like those friends that I care for, everything seems to be under construction. There are road crews and pylons and ditchdigging everywhere and it's become impossible to travel in a straight line. Familiar exits are closed, traffic snarls abound, and I'm forced to take detours into new parts of town. Sometimes I find a welcome shortcut - sometimes I get hopelessly lost. It's a lot like life. "Meet trouble as a friend," Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote, "Because you'll see a lot of it and you had better be on speaking terms with it."