Thinking at Half Speed

I hadn’t been out for a couple of weeks. My own fault. But the sun was shining so we went — me on the scooter, my partner alongside.

It was properly spring. Blue skies, birds singing, a water vole in the stream, squirrels everywhere, and the trees all out in their pinks and whites. Joyous. It really was.

Two things stayed with me.

The first was how much I’d needed that. Just to be in it.

The second was harder. I am not safe out alone. At road crossings I realised my traffic awareness is so slow now that the situation changes before I’ve finished processing it. I can see a hazard. My brain just doesn’t get there in time. If I were still driving I’d be dangerous — and I probably wouldn’t know it.

So the scooter gives me movement but not freedom. Not in the way that word used to mean.

We got back. The fatigue hit hard. This morning I couldn’t move from pain.

The blossom was worth it. The loss is still real.