We’ve been telling ourselves that as long as we can keep up with the yardwork, we should stay in this home we’ve loved for nearly 43 years. Who wouldn’t love living in the forest, keeping company with birds and squirrels on a daily basis, surrounded by giant oaks, their shadows splayed out like lace on the newfallen snow. But oh, those oaks! They come with a price. Those brilliant leaves, so enchanting in October, do tumble down in late November. “Rake us!” they scream. So out we go, quoting Robert Frost. “I have safely trodden underfoot the leaves of another year”, he mused, as he tended his farm just south of town. Could we still do that? Could we, like Bob, stay above the leaves this year?
Then it happened. As we emptied a tarp load of those endless leaves into the woods, a hidden hole grabbed my husband’s foot and sent him sprawling. He had torn his Achilles tendon –an x-ray confirmed it. Into a monstrous orthotic boot went that left foot. The boot from you-know-where. It wasn’t long until the boot created a wound on his heel. Those boots are notorious for this.
Meanwhile, a leak was discovered in our oil tank. Some four thousand dollars later, it’s been replaced. Although it came in a lovely shade of ebony, a new couch would have been so much more fun. Then somewhere along the way the furnace died and had to be revived with a hefty chunk of change. One of the toilets began to burp. More repairs. The house is aging along with us.
Then we had a sleet storm, and in the middle of that I managed to stumble and turn my foot backwards, causing a severe sprain. My pain seemed to match the weather. Both of us ended up in the orthopedic surgeon’s exam room with our left feet sticking out in his direction. His suggestion? Write the alphabet in cursive with the injured foot. A form of physical therapy, and quite a challenge for us to remember. “Q” was a particular struggle, but we made it, and the doctor indulged us with that amused tolerance that I notice in more and more of my dealings with younger people. You know. ”Isn’t that a cute old couple?” Sigh.
This beloved house in the forest is brimming with memories of our children who have moved on, into their own lives. But they remind us that there is no way out of this house without negotiating stairs. When they heard about my ankle injury, they thought that perhaps Doomsday had actually arrived. “What will we do with Mom and Dad now?” Well, I must admit that they have a point. This could be a problem, if recent events are a precursor of things to come. Just trying to be realistic, not pessimistic. Change is in the wind. But really, isn’t it always?
Getting old is not for the faint of heart!
