As we age, there are events in our lives that are considered “milestones.”
A milestone is a baby taking his or her first steps.
A milestone is a christening where the entire family makes a trek to be with the newest member of the clan.
A milestone is when your children get married. (A stone for each couple.)
The latest milestone in my life occurred when I climbed into one of those electric cars they have at supermarkets to assist those people with walking or standing limitations.
I was having a very bad day coping with my mobility-challenged legs. I was grouchy and curt with everyone. I did not want to be old. I did not want to be mobility-challenged. Everything on or in my body was going to hell in a handbasket. I was shouting “STOP,” but the hearing aids in my ears had run out of electricity.
Where the heck is that pink energy bunny that runs around beating that bass drum when you need him? He probably is in Washington trying to jump-start the legislators into action. “Burn them good, Pinky!”
At the moment of lowest despair when life seemed to run into the gutter and down the sewer, a ray of sunshine landed gently on my shoulder and I heard my wife Diane, say “Why don’t you try this electric cart?” Why not, indeed!
I let go of my walker and hobbled over to the conveyance. It was simply a cart with a basket in the front for shopping convenience, a steering mechanism that made it capable of making right- and left-handed turns, a lever operated by hand that enabled you to go forward and reverse, and a horn that went “Beep!”. The battery was at full charge, so away we went!