The Walking Man

7 am.  My eyes flutter open and I smile at the dark ceiling like I always do at this hour.  I haven't been able to sleep past seven since I was a teacher for so many years.  I don't mind though, there's something magical in the early morning hours.  

I start to move my body in attempts to wake it up.  My bones and joints creak, moan and crack like my old trailer house does when the wind blows.  Slowly, I can feel life begin to flow through my limbs and I roll over to prop myself into a sitting position. 

I slide my feet into my trustee slippers so my feet stay warm while I dress.  My big toe pokes out of the blue fleece on the left foot, but I don’t mind.  I leave my pajama pants on and put my jeans on over top.  It’s cold out this morning and I want to stay warm.  I put on a couple sweaters and my blue hat too.  Then I look around for my orange reflective vest that the snowplow man gave me.  A snowplow almost hit me 3 years ago; I had to run off the road to avoid the blade.  It scared the driver so much that he gave me the reflective jacket so it wouldn’t happen again.  I’ve worn it every morning ever since.  Then I remember I couldn’t find it yesterday.  I haven’t been able to go out for 8 months now.  I don’t know where I put the darn thing.  So I shift my way over to the coat closet by the front door and pull out the next best thing, my bright yellow coat.  There’s some black on it but it’s mostly yellow, so I will be seen even though it’s not reflective.  I put it on and then pull on my oversized mittens. 

Every morning since I retired at 72, I have gone on my early morning walk.  I live close to the highway and I like to walk up and down the hill a mile and a half.  That makes 3 miles.  I would trot on the flat spots and walk on the hills.  There are two spots that are flat.  Every morning I would walk, even when it’s 0 degrees outside... all you need is enough clothes and when you get cold, walk faster.

Then last spring I fell when I was trottin’.  My doctor told me I shouldn’t be trottin’ anymore.  I have a heart problem and something might happen to me.  And then one morning I woke up with water in my lungs.  I didn’t even walk after that.

But 3 months ago I started walking again.  Not outside, but inside my house.  I live in a 60-foot trailer.  I walk up and down the thing.  I started off only walking two times up and down.  I kept adding more walking.  And for the last month I walked a quarter mile.  I figured it out by doing the math.  And this, here, this is my walker that my son gave me.  It has big wheels on it for walking outside.  If I hold on to this I won’t fall.  So today I’m going back outside.  I won’t walk all 3 miles.  I will start with only 1 mile today. 

When you see me walking, you stop by and say hi.  I like talking to people.  But if you don’t stop to talk, I will wave at you anyhow.  I wave at every car that passes by.

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This was my way of telling you about the man that I have come to call The Walking Man.  His name is John Queen and I’m not sure how old he is but according to him he retired a long time ago, when he was 72.  Every morning I went to Powderhorn to work during the winter, I would see him walking in his orange reflective road vest.  Rain, snow, wind, sun, it didn’t matter, unless it was a really bad storm.  And without fail, he would wave to me every time I passed him.  He would make my day.

Then this year I decided to get him something from powderhorn as a gift and to tell him that he inspired me and that it made me happy every time I saw him.  But then I didn’t see him, and didn’t see him and I looked every day.  I was afraid that he had died or gotten really sick or moved.  Then I saw him just this last week.  I was late for work but stopped anyway and was able to give him the sweater I bought him and learn his name and some of his story.  He teared up and was very happy I stopped and asked me to stop again someday.  It made my day so much brighter.

Above: The road John Walks on