by Al Beay
My cane is my constant companion.
When Im trying to get somewhere using my feet my cane is my good leg.
It goes to the bathroom with me; it walks in and out of the house with me.
When I get in my car my cane goes first.
When I come home from work my cane enters the house before me.
When Im sitting and I reach for my cane my dog knows Im going some place. The dog knows to stay away from my cane, not because I would hit her with it, but she knows it has to keep me steady or Ill fall.
My grandson knows I need the cane to get around. Hes five years old and hes known about the cane since he could crawl. Sometimes when Im not using it he pretends its a rifle. That makes me smile. Not the cane, him.
My cane is a necessary evil. Although it has kept me from falling many times, it gives me no pleasure and is not my friend. Its not my enemy, just not a friend.
I own many canes. Some are wood, some are metal. One is only used in the house; one is only used at work. The work one has a metal attachment with spikes on it that swings down in winter for walking on ice and snow. Theres a wood one I use with my scooter, and another wood one I use with the tractor when I cut the grass.
When I go to bed the house cane leans against the dresser and wall waiting for me to get up. Sometimes it seems there are canes all over the house.
When I sleep my cane is never in my dreams because when I dream I dont need a cane, I can walk and climb and run like a normal person. Only in my dreams.
When I die I dont want my cane anywhere near me.
Then Ill be free of it.