I took mom to Deer Lake and out on the pedal boats for the third time this year last week (end of September 2017). When we arrived and went into the water it was more still than the other times. It meant we could move very easily, and that I had no clue just how much slower the tiny winds had been making the boat move. We chugged across the lake and enjoyed it thoroughly, getting further west than we could on other days. I asked mom if she would like to take over, and both pedal and steer. The steering column thing is a handle to push up or down to go correspondingly left or right. It’s not immediately intuitive if you have not used one before, but for the most part mom was good with it (and it was perfectly safe to not have control in any case). She pedalled and ran the boat itself for about 15 minutes of our hour.
It was very nice, and we were able to get back to shore at a slow pace, stopping to chat with various birds along the way. What really got me was how mom was afterwards. She beamed with pride when we got to shore and I told the people who work there mom was ‘driving’ us part of the way today. She gushed even more politely than usual, and was all smiles– but the moment that really made my day (and several days after) was when we began to walk around the lake itself to a place to relax awhile. We went along the south shore and to a small hill that dips down at a steep enough incline (before tapering back out to near level) that I tend to pick up speed a little, in order to not be fighting for control of the chair as I push it along. There was a family coming up the hill just before we began to descend, and Mom, feeling me going a little faster threw her arms up and to the sides a little, exclaiming loudly
“Look out everyone, we’re coming fast and we could lose control. This is your warning, we’re coming through!” and the family started to laugh fairly hard, and I started to lose myself in the moment, having a serious real laugh I don’t get anywhere near enough. Mom was delighting in her day, and making strangers and I alike feel great infectiously (and through making me laugh, creating a self-fulfilled prophecy; I got nervous about the chair and my control over it as I guffawed, but stumbled down the little hill and turned onto the little boardwalk that goes through trees just away from the water).
It was truly grand when there are never enough truly grand moments. I wish there was a little more time to just feel it before thinking about it, but the thoughts about it were beautiful as well, as fate has nice little moments that reassure you of your path, your place under the sun and the reasons you would– despite the pain– take this on again in a heartbeat. Taking the moments as they come can give wonderful gifts.