Another Mother’s Day Death March

hiker

The past year zoomed by. Each day brought the gift of healing. Usually my improvements were microscopic: a new brain cell, a reawakened nerve or a bit of clever conversation. Sometimes I feel transformed. Sometimes I believe the “new” me is an improvement. I now understand how precious each day should be, even though each day presents new challenges. As I will my affected parts to perform basic tasks, I gulp in air, filling myself with the vibration of living. Pretty cosmic. Huh?

A few years ago my family asked what I wanted for Mother’s Day and I said a family hike. That year we began the tradition now fondly known as The Mother’s Day Death March.

Last Mother’s Day, we made an effort to continue the tradition despite my less than hearty physical condition. Using my cane and clutching steadying hands, I hobbled along the very short level section of the Tanyard Springs trail in Bella Vista.

This year, I have a hiking stick and we’re headed to Devil’s Den. It will be a short hike, but everything about my ‘hiking part’s have improved to the point that I’m confident I can easily manage the mile and a half trail.

Advertisements

About Vic Cobb Fountain

Empowered Stroke survivor: appreciating where I've been, anticipating where I'm going.
This entry was posted in family, kids, stroke, stroke survivor and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Another Mother’s Day Death March

  1. toni balogna says:

    we had a journey on the buffalo on mothers day. it was like labor. we will discuss all this and your bataan death march recreation when we see each other.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s