It's All in the Pacing

I nearly stepped on this little guy this morning on the way to the car.  The routine at my sister's house is different to the one I have at home, but strangely familiar.  In the mornings I drive Susie to the ferry instead of letting her walk.  It gives us 10 minutes together to compare notes each morning: 5 while we pour the coffee into travel mugs, and 5 in the car on the way to the boat.  So even though I'm still rushing around in the mornings, its a different kind of rush. 

Returning home, I saw that Gary (not his actual name) had slimed himself 2 whole tulips farther along the driveway than where I'd left him.  And it occurred to me that this small creature, house on back, snail-trail distribution system engaged, had his own morning commute to contend with.  For all I know, he has to be all the way to the mailbox by nine, or all the good bugs will be taken, and then it's nothing but work work work to find something for the little snail-lets to eat for lunch.  And of course, there's the talking to he'll get from Mrs. Gary:  "How hard can it BE, for pity sake?  I bust my shell around here all day to make a nice snail pit (nest? lair?) for you and the little ones, and all I ask is that you get out there and come home with a few lousy grubs, for crying out loud..."  Poor Gary.  And to think he almost never made it to the mailbox at all.  One inch closer and I'd have smashed him into an even slimier mess than he already is.  Funny he didn't stop to thank me, even when I came back to take his picture.

My mom's pace is different, too.  She has this four-wheel drive, walky-wheely thing that she shoves along in front of her as she goes now.  Her cane was no longer helping her as much as she needed, so on doctor's orders (A phrase she LOVES hearing me repeat, by the way), she now has Scooty.  I named her walky thing that in a feeble attempt to help her make friends with it.  Scooty is sometimes her friend (in that she has not fallen down lately), but mostly a pain in her ass.  Mom is not taking lightly to her new, more reserved land speed.  And I feel for her.  Once, while she was napping, I took Scooty out for a spin myself, hoping to better understand what it's like for her now.  I walked at the same speed I've seen her do.  I lifted each foot the same half-inch off the ground that she does.  I sat down and tried to use Scooty to pull myself up, using only the strength in my legs. 

And it Sucked.  All of it.  And it made me mad.  And I silently promised Mom not to use the phrase "Doctor's Orders" anymore.

So Gary, baby, I feel your pain.  Sometimes the destination IS the issue, not the sightseeing along the way.  Here's to all God's creatures getting where we need to, in the time we have to do it.

Godspeed, Gary.