Since I last wrote, I have transitioned into my bulky new balances. I'm grateful that I had the vision of buying them pre-surgery, not only because they cost me a pretty penny (and currently my monies funny) but also because learning to walk again takes time and patience. These shoes happen to be timely and patient so they are the perfect set to help me restore my gansta lean. When I felt courageous enough to walk again, I realized my left foot hadn't touched the ground in almost two months, she was protected in an uber cool moon boot. She would give MJ a run for his money. While my right foot walked, and both arms bulged because they maneuvered crutches for a month and a half, my left foot watched with envy. She wanted to dance, but it was broken. She hurt. Two weeks ago, when it came time for my leftie to be one with the earth again, it cried. In fact it begged me to stop as I made her touch the bathroom floor. I listened. And I delayed its proposed debut to walk again, for a couple more days. I lovingly and willingly strapped her back into her cushiony boot, the interior warm and soft, emulating a crib lined with the finest cotton. Comfy and safe, she went to sleep and didn't wake up again until I violently told her to rise, she couldn't stay there forever. Knowing that we needed to restore our stride, I made her try again. I returned to the bathroom. Feeling the cold, marble bathroom floor, her soles tingled. Electricity ran all over my body as we tried to take our first step. She couldn't press off the ground, now paralyzed, she contemplated on the icy surface. After a brief talk with it, she believed she was ready. With a cry, and a loud scream she walked all my herself, no crutches, hands free. To me, it felt as though a knife had ruptured out from my skin as I took my first step, but for her she knew this was the beginning of a perfect moon walk. We had done it. Every step after that one, has been extremely slow, calculated, and painful. If I'm walking beside someone, I have to hold their hand or use them as a human cane. If I walk alone, I have to tell my left foot to take it easy, because she practically wants to run loose from under me. I remind her that slowly, she will reach 100 percent recovery. It has been almost two months since I envied those who could walk from a car window. Two weeks ago, I promised God that I would jump in His presence the moment me and moon boot parted ways. I've since, forgotten the dozens of dreams I had when my left foot slept, recovering from the invasion of a foreign screw. And the shaving of a bone, she had grown to love. There are countless things I'm looking forward now that the process of learning how to walk has begun: wearing high heels, wearing closed toe shoes that fit etc. But the one major lesson leftie has taught me is that re-learning is painful, takes time, and that the other side of recovery is restoration. I'm use to fast walking down city blocks, now leftie tells me to slow down. I'm enjoying everything from a calming pace. I thank God for healing me, and leftie for taking me to that place of healing.
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