a lesser radius

 

the vicarious, the nearby, still there

I look at pictures of a hike,

of a waterfall, of a mountain top,

and each place looks like a friend,

at their best, all hale and hearty

and perfect for the world,

and I should be with them,

now I'm having to deal with a slowly-dawning realization

that my body can't hike as it once did,

that where I can ambulate myself

has a lesser and lesser radius from where I am,

family members casually walked 4+ miles 

up to a wonderful waterfall, Ramsey Cascades,

and easily walk it back, two hours up, two hours down,

my granddaughter hikes to the top of my favorite mountain

and back down a well-loved trail,

all in one full day

something I used to do and just can't any more,

I pushed it two months ago,

and I handled well the aerobics of a steep 2+ miles,

but I didn't quite have it in me

to make it to the A.T. and back again,

many incredible spots are still within my power,

I want to appreciate what is still available,

to look up and joy that the nearby and the vicarious are still open to me,

the sun is setting, yet the light can still be there for me for awhile.

by Henry H. Walker

December 29, ‘24