Here’s to all the girls with vertigo

On the way back to Kansas City from court in Independence yesterday, I stopped at a store to make a single purchase.  I found the item which I wanted and approached a bank of registers.

From twenty feet away, a clerk called out in a cheerful voice, Are you ready? and I started towards her station.  I noticed the radiance of her smile; the length of her dark hair; the smooth olive of her skin.  I thought, I wonder if she is from Mexico, as I set my purchase down.

She spoke again, startling me.   You walk like me! and then I heard the definite accent, not American.  My brow furrowed and I answered, What did you say?   She repeated, and I asked, Are you disabled?  I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me; I didn’t think so but I was not sure.

She shook her head as her fingers danced over the keys of the machine.  No, no.  I have vertigo.  I sway back and forth when I walk!  She took my money and made change in a smooth gesture that left me envious.  As she put my item in a plastic bag, she continued with her explanation.  I saw you walking and I thought you must have vertigo, just like me.  If possible her smile widened.  Her eyes danced.  I found myself wishing that I could explain about my limp, my broken artificial knee, the shudders in my legs.

I found myself wishing that I had vertigo.  Just like her.

Today is the eleventh day of the twenty-sixth month of My Year Without Complaining.  I’m not sure if my shell is hardening or cracking.  Perhaps the change that I set about to embrace over two years ago has finally reached my soul.  It might be too soon to tell.  I’ll keep you posted.  Life continues.

Photo by Maggie Mason.

Photo by Maggie Mason.

To read the story from which I borrowed this photo, click HERE.

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