Would you like a chair? No, thank you.
Can I get the door for you? No, thanks. I’ve got it.
Let me get that for you. No thanks, I can get it.
I’m doing it again, and i didn’t realize it until this morning.
It’s been pointed out by friends who know and love me that I’m NOT all about the cane.
And if I want to be valued for being more than what I am limited by, then I should consider the possibility that a man might not even see my acrylic accessory. He might just see a woman that he wants to hold a door open for. Wow.
The cane gets in my way, and gets in my head only when I allow it. It isn’t in my smile, my laugh, or how I love.
Regarding its value, a cane at my age is a great sifter, frankly. Sifts out the riff-raff. Sifts out those that must have perfect (I never cared for perfect, myself.). Sifts out surface versus depth
But that cane can be a shield, too. It’s just great for me keeping you at arm’s length. It’s great to blame for loneliness. Willingly takes responsibility for the world’s incivility and rudeness. Easy target, but not the responsible one.
I am the responsible party. It’s my responsibility to see and communicate who I am clearly to my circle, my world. If I am more than my cane, more than what I can’t do, then I need to remember to say “thank you” .
Because it’s lovely to have a door held open.