Retiring the Cane

The long march back from the park left a distinct stiffness in my hip joints. Crossing the quiet living room, I directed my course straight to the upholstered footstool beneath the floor lamp. With deliberate effort, I hoisted myself up onto the woven fabric top and propped my brown cane securely against the cushion seam. Lowering myself down, I extended both legs straight out and let the dense foam absorb my weight. The gentle amber lamp pooled around me, accompanied only by the steady ticking of the wall clock. For tonight, the perimeter can maintain itself.