I’ve written before about my first date with my husband. Today, March 4, is the 49th anniversary of that first date. The event itself wasn’t very auspicious. In fact, it was downright awkward. And yet, here we are. We survived that first date—and a great many other things—and we’ve now been married more than 48 years.
The last six months or so have been some of the hardest of our 49 years together—my husband’s worsening Parkinson’s symptoms last fall, followed by a lengthy hospitalization and rehab stay through December and January. Hospital feel endless, and the future seems uncertain. But here we are. On the other side.
Last Sunday we went for a walk in a nearby beach-front park. We walked a mile. He used his walker—but he walked a mile. It was indeed a “milestone.” We hadn’t walked just to walk and enjoy the fresh air in months.
It was one of those clear, beautiful afternoons when the mountains looked close enough to touch. The sun was out. The sea was white-capped and busy with boats. Families filled the paths with strollers and dogs and noisy children, though I didn’t see anyone else with a walker.
There was a time when a one-mile walk would have felt like nothing. We would have gone much farther without thinking about it. But this one mile on a flat stretch of beach-front sidewalk felt like a greater accomplishment than longer mountain hikes we’ve taken in the past. It represented healing, determination, and continued togetherness.
Health issues can shrink horizons. But they don’t have to. Poor health doesn’t take away the natural beauty of the world around us. It doesn’t take away the delight of sun on one’s face or the freshness of an ocean breeze. It doesn’t take away the comfort of walking—albeit slowly—next to someone you’ve loved for nearly half a century.
This next phase of our lives will have more to teach me. This past Sunday it taught me that it’s important to notice small pleasures in life, to realize that good times are still possible.
It’s important to “march forth” every day that we can, even if one of us does it with a walker. Because marching forth is better than the alternative.
When have you “marched forth” through a difficult time in your life? What has it taught you?
