Making Choices

My favorite shoes

It started with a baby.  A baby who insisted on being in just the right place to make it impossible for me to balance her and me at the same time.  Eight months along, I came home from work one day, parked the car, tried to step up on the curb, and promptly got back in the car and drove to the emergency room.  My roommate, watching from the upstairs window rushed to follow me.  A bulging disc, “slipped” the doctor said.  Physical therapy.  More exercise.

A few years later, another baby, more physical therapy. More exercise.

I love these too. Dr. A. calls them my flats.

A few more years, more beautiful shoes, not as much faithful exercise, more physical therapy.

Last week.  One cough. More pain than labor.

My favorite no-nonsense nurse practitioner says, “Now are you ready to wear flat shoes?”

My new favorite decoration

I am now the reluctant owner of two very nice pairs of shoes that will not injure me further.  And there’s more physical therapy. This is serious!