The walking cane now gathers dust in the corner behind the door. A father leaned against it on a path where he would stop to talk with the neighbors, pet a dog, or lift a child. He served as the honorary grandpa for many three-year-olds. He always had a piece of candy and a smile.
The walking cane once belonged to his father who used it to lift himself into his tractor on the cotton farm. He purchased it on his one and only trip through the Navajo Nation to Bakersfield to pick up tractor supplies. A teardrop fell on his sister’s cheek when they said goodbye. An old woman in a blue traditional dress sold the gnarled pine walking stick and blessed it as he took it away. The blessing carried forward to the son who used it nearly 50 years.
The walking cane sits in the corner waiting for a new owner. Someone who will honor the memories made along the trail.
© 2018, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.
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