Teetering Assembly of Her Life

I saw an elderly woman lumbering up a street in San Francisco. She was bent over, moving slow yet determined.

She made me think of my mother.

My mother, who later in life struggled with Parkinson’s disease. With each year, her body fractured more and more. To remain upright, she became a Jenga tower of contortion. But then the time came when she could no longer walk, and she transitioned to an electric wheelchair.

And yet, as her body continued to betray her, she found an inner equilibrium. With each indignity, from no longer being able to hold a book to relying on others to feed her, she always found a countervailing quality or way of balancing out the teetering assembly of her life.

She leaned on humor.

She insisted on fashion, even though others had to dress her. She selected her jewelry, hats, colorful slippers. She embraced conversation, often sharing insights and advice for her young caregivers. Her cackling laugh was infectious.

I miss my mother.

I’m glad I noticed the woman in San Francisco. Because her bent frame, lugging a cart up a steep hill, is a metaphor for the struggle we all face. And a reminder that we are responsible for our equilibrium, and that there are tools and resources and reserves within us. It may take hardship to find them, but they are there. And once discovered and deployed, they can sustain us.

I know they did for my mother.