Extraordinary Ordinariness

It was just before noon that we reclaimed the calm home that we live in. Everything had been packed away, everyone had said 'Goodbye' in the driveway. We had a bit of shopping to do so we waved them off and then headed up to the grocers. Henry carried the groceries and as we left onto Bloor Street, I said to Joe, "Do you want to go a block over and go home through the University?" Joe was very up for it.

So for the next hour or so we meandered up and down small streets and passageways. For most of our life together we walked long distances together. We always talked while we walked. Oddly, I'd have to say that our 'walking talks' were very different than our 'sitting talks'. I think they are a bit more intimate, a bit more honest, a lot more revealing. We laughed as we discovered the secrets of our neighbourhood.

We had to be very careful at times with the state of the pavement and some curb cuts that were dangerous to WALK over. But we refused to let these little annoyances even enter into the conversation. It was like we were both young again, both able to enjoy a simple walk on a beautiful day.

On of Henry's best attributes, besides being able to carry my weight up and down hills, is that he is silent. We hear not even a whirring from him as I move around. For awhile it was simply like we were walking side by side, like we were simply and unremarkably out for a stroll.

We got home and I parked Henry in his spot and we plugged him in for a charge. Later, Joe went to check to see if the charge was finished. It wasn't. But he stood and looked at the chair.

He said: I thought we got this chair for you.