Casting off

Red sand at low tide
North Shore park
Pugwash, Nova Scotia

Casting off in knitting means creating a finished
edge, so it's appropriate that casting off in my
case, means my bone's broken edges are
finished enough to lose the cast. Now I have an
air cast, a construction made of black
fleece that closes with many Velcro closures,
and then a hard plastic shell, that straps over
top. This is a walking cast, and I'll hobble
around with it, and my crutches if necessary for
the next three weeks.

When the doctor took my hand, after a technician
named Dominic sawed the cast off, and asked
me to walk, it felt biblical. I almost wept.
When I got in my car for the first time in
six weeks and went with my son to buy
groceries, I felt so thrilled to be free. My husband
stood on our front porch and watched me sail away
car giving me an thumbs up.

Today I'm including two photographs of what
I missed this summer: the sand under foot on
the beach we love in Pugwash, and the sight of
my tall, younger son playing in the ocean,
with children visiting my friend, Diane.

Now that I can take the air cast off and on,
I have stood in my bare feet, and know
how much both feet miss the feel of that
hard sand, designed into thousands, of
patterns by the retreating tide. Low
tide is when we walk on the beach, loving
the feeling of small rivers pulling the water off
the expanding shore.

Sam (right) and friends

I have not painted today, but I will tomorrow.
It was my turn to make dinner -- the first turn
in six weeks. Today deserved a separate space.
I'm going to toast my freedom with a little Veuve
Cliquot.

Have a three-cheers-to-the-good-life day.