After two days of walking on the cobblestones and brick sidewalks of Paris, my back was screaming. I was walking hunched over looking like a twenty years older version of myself.
I told my daughter, “I need a walking stick. I think it would help me to stand up straighter, and give me a bit more support.” I even described it to her. “I’m picturing something pretty, like maybe black with little painted flowers on it.”
So we ventured out to find a pharmacie that might sell one. There are ‘pharmacie’ all over French towns. Not like the big CVSs or Walgreens we are used to in the states, but little drug stores like I remember from when I was younger. They are easy to spot, because they are all marked with a green light cross outside.
The first several pharmacies - no sticks. At least none obvious. Then, finally, voila! A black walking stick with little painted flowers on it, exactly as I’d pictured.
Images in my head of my grandfather with a cane after his stroke - I had to get past them. “Does it make me look older than I am?” I asked my daughter. “Not at all, Mama,” she replied." “Actually, you look a lot better than when you walk hunched over without it.”
So, after falling in love with how the French speak the name Claude (see the previous post about Monet) I chose to name the stick Claudette. She went everywhere with us. Sidewalks. Cafes. Subways. And while I balked at the idea I had succumbed to carrying something just shy of a cane, I also found she garnered un-anticipated respect. People gave me their seats on subways. Offered me assistance in and out of cars. Not really necessary, though appreciated.
And Claudette gave me the confidence to do some walking I might otherwise not do. Like this ridiculously long flight of stairs in Lyon. This is only about a third of the total it took us to get from our restaurant in town back up to our hotel.
I suppose this is where I should admit to an ongoing muscle issue that has been diagnosed as something called inclusion body myositis. It’s a chronic inflammation of the muscles in the upper parts of my legs that has significant impact on my stair climbing ability, and sometimes on walking, as well. So, that photo above comes in a close second to the one when I finished my marathon back in 2005 (more about that here.)
Claudette has only ventured out of the house now that I’m back home twice so far since we’ve been home. She waits in the corner with my coats, and brings me smiles every time I see her. Lovely memories of where we walked together. And promises of more to come.
She beckons to me from the corner, “when is our next adventure?”
Soon, my lovely friend. Soon. Bientô
Thank you as always for reading.
With love to each of you,
Mimi
Teddy Roosevelt used to say, "Speak softly but carry a big stick"
That's definitely a big stick.