Inch by Inch
by
Ridgely Goldsborough
Bob rocked back and forth three times
in his wheelchair before coming to his feet. He grabbed the walker with his left arm—the “good one”—and
began the 30-foot journey down the sidewalk in front of his house. I marvelled at how much he had improved since my last trip
a month before. He finally began to walk on his own.
He placed most of his weight on his left leg, dragged the less cooperative
right one forward, then used his walker to take the next step. Sweat gathered on his brow, glistening in the morning sun.
What a major victory!
Fourteen years earlier I stood in
that same driveway on the first day we met. I purchased some wine from a restaurant liquidation that Bob oversaw and came
over to pick it up. We talked the afternoon away, became instant friends. For more than a decade, Bob taught me about wine
and food. We shared countless lunches and dinners. Together, we formed the San Fernando chapter of the International Wine
and Food Society.
When it comes to fine dining, Bob has forgotten more than most of us
will ever know.
A little over a year ago, after one of those very lunches, I stood on the sidewalk in front of
the restaurant, waiting to say goodbye to Bob, who stopped to use the restroom. He came out the front door with a strange
look on his face and began to step past me, into the parking lot.
“Bob,” I asked. “Is everything alright?”
He kept going, in a kind of odd trance, moving in the general direction
of his van.
“Bob,” I persisted. “It’s me, Ridge. Are
you okay?”
Then he collapsed. I caught him on his way to the pavement.
Right in front of me, Bob had a stroke.
After weeks in the
hospital, they moved Bob to a treatment center, where he spent the next few months. After he re-gained enough motor skills,
he was allowed home, to continue the agonizingly slow process of recovery.
Bob’s gleaming smile assures
me that his mischievous self is alive and well, even though he still cannot speak. He raises his eyebrows and wags his finger
at me, pulls his right arm with his left, to show me how much further he can extend it.
Inch by inch, I see the progress.
Wow.
How many of us take our health for granted?
How many of us hold on to senseless upsets, leave our house angry, forget
the preciousness of each and every moment?
What if today was the last day you had a chance to tell your family that
you loved them? Did you let that chance slide by? Do you do it often?
In my own arrogance, I miss some of those
chances. Stuck in self-righteousness, I hold on to a foolish grudge or make a mountainous issue out of a few words spoken
in haste.
What a waste. It takes Bob’s courageous struggle down the sidewalk
to pull me out of my muck.
It would be nice if I didn’t need the reminder.
I
look forward to sitting on the back terrace next to the waterfall and discussing the nuances of a favourite red burgundy.
Soon, old friend, soon.
Cheers.
That’s A View From The Ridge...
Author Ridgely Goldsborough publishes The Daily Column, humorous
and inspirational stories designed to touch our hearts. Please take a moment to subscribe at no charge at www.aviewfromtheridge.com.
