For three months I've been looking at it, beckoning me, tantalizing me with its scent. I can see it quite clearly from my bedroom picture window.
Month one it seemed an impossibility.
Today, I threw my one crutch, which I use about 50% of the time now aside, leashed Rusty up, laced up my Nike's and went. To the beach.
No crutch, no husband to lean on. Just me, Rusty, the leash, and hopefully no errant cat to catch his attention.
"The Walk" entails one block, downhill, a series of stairs, downstairs which are typically followed by upstairs, the uphill and back home.
I DID IT! Once we reached the beach, my feet, Nike clad that they were, touched the sand. Ah, heaven. There were a couple of surfers out, little kids running, Mommies chasing, dogs barking and one curious tattooed couple at the top of the stairs watching and wondering why I was taking the stairs so gingerly.
Back home I sit, on my bed, laptop and ice pack, breathing in ocean air. I can still see the tattooed couple on the stairs, enjoying this perfect seventy degree, not a cloud in the sky, California day. Life is good.