Walking Memory

It was beautiful in London yesterday, warm and spring-like. On the way home the cab took a slightly different route from normal and went through an area where I used to live about eight years ago. We were weaving through streets I knew well, and the time of day and the light were deeply reminiscent of that time too.

I felt a powerful longing to walk along these streets again. Every now and again a place I remember walking through will catch in my memory, and I’m suddenly hit by a desperate desire to go for a walk there. My mobility started to deteriorate about four years ago and I’m pretty well acclimatised now to new ways of getting around. Most of the time I don’t think about the fact that I use a wheelchair or that walking more than a few steps is a real struggle – it’s just how it is. But there are moments like this evening that remind me of a time when moving about was easy and enjoyable, and these are always emotionally jarring.

I didn’t feel miserable but I did desperately want to stop the cab, get out, and walk home on my own. As we drove on a few tears slipped down my cheeks, but Leftwing Idiot reminded me of all the amazing things I have to look forward to in the coming months and I soon felt more cheerful again.

I often find myself reflecting on my mobility when the weather improves, probably because it was about this time of year that it first started slipping away. Hopefully my elbow will be fully healed soon and I’ll be able to push myself along again in my amazing wheelchair – staying well clear of kerbs.

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