The good news is that my knees didn’t buckle, bend the wrong way, or creak during Thai travel.
The bad news evoked more revery than a single sentence…
Fragile, cautious, in jeopardy. Not feelings I’d ever experienced before. Never a victim of robbery or rape, I’d lived a face-forward life.
In Thailand, the land of uneven surfaces and dust covering all of its purported smiles. Land of steps, either up or down and never a predictable depth, into toilet stalls. At least there were toilet stalls, but the plumbing was bereft and there was a pervasive lack of tp. Foreign in custom, yet I am loath to blame Thailand.
I blame the severe fall four days before we left. With my physician’s assurance that nothing was broken, not even my pride, I went.
At home, while sour, bruised, and in pain, I had persevered. In Indochina, all was uneven, unknown, daunting at every level.
At home I was comfortable, everything in its place, within easy reach so that I was steady and capable with my non-dominant hand and arm. Plus pain killers, Advil, ice, and gentle massage.
Thai movement required constant effort, diminishing my view of ancient sites and immersion in a culture divergent from my own, like blinders on a horse.
I hope that hollowness doesn’t haunt my aging experience. I hope I retain the element of stalwart resilience – not quite defiance but something akin to nobleness in the face of anything. Hope.
Perhaps jet lag exacerbated my inklings of defeat, the weariness of traveling across twelve time zones spoiled the welcome of country…
Maybe it’s my homeland’s pervasive divisiveness and rage that is undermining my positivity. A ratcheted-up rancor level that is difficult to square with the splendor of our freedoms and position of favor on the earth.
I voted – did you? Let’s face forward, together, with healing and hope.