by Sherry Lowry

Fueled by willingness
Three-four hot summer days a week
I watch you leave our neighborhood.
Dauntless, the aware but unafraid
Solidly treading, trusty white cane in capable right hand.

You make your way toward Manchaca Road’s city busyness
A left turn then 77 steps take you to the lamppost of destination.
Adroit is your cane-slide, side to side, noting all,
Guiding you forward – never a hesitancy, never a blink.

Keeper of the “punch-for-safety” traffic control cross-box.
It clicks. It invites. You step into the now obedient traffic.
I watch, so afraid. You, so proud, no fear here.

The box beeps kind signals to you.
Rampaging metal hulks of all sorts lurk so close.
Some screech but all stop. Even a biker. Silence.
Your signal–the crossing countdown starts.

Years back, downtown by university campus, I could not watch.
You were younger.
I was a less confident Mom,
A sissy, in fact.

Now you are the master of you;
Garrison Park; Pool awaits; you navigate.
Woods edge on left; asphalt entrance on right.
I realize, once again, you have pre-counted your needed steps
Just as you have counted the trees.

Each tree passed, a landmark.
27 steps, trees navigated, 27 slight echoes, you and the dolphins share sonar.
I smile. I relax. You turn.

Now minutes away from claiming your swim lane, so earned.
Together sounds, reliable sounds, engined by courage.

– –

Sherry Lowry captures to page stories she lives into being. Growing up in her Houstonian Dad’s corner drugstore, reading at night under covers by flashlight, she dreamed of a business of her own –allowing more reading. Readers enjoy her conversational style served through accessible language .