This Mile

Once in a while you notice the small moments so profoundly that you can see how they distinctly mark a shift in your life path. Small moments are unlike big moments. Big moments are letter worthy events like a baby's birth, a wedding day, a graduation and a death. But the small moments can also mark a turning of the table, a shift in the tide so to speak. They usually don't accompany a get-together. Most likely there is no thank you note necessary thereafter.

It was a quiet affair when I hovered over the recycling bin with the Elmo faced spoon because it hadn't been used in over a year. I was alone when I noticed that a stray gray hair had multiplied, like a gizmo litter on my nearing 40 year old head. And I didn't conduct a poll on the train at rush hour when I was considering a shift in my career. These were some small moments, just another face on the train-like events but to me, they go unforgotten. Like a skier on fresh powder, these tracks grooved the snow, shaped future turns and lay witness as a marked event.

I was with my dad for one such moment. "I don't think I can do it", he said in the lodge at Mohawk mountain. Oh no you didn't I thought, this ski trip was your idea and we are here with lift tickets in hand. I guess I was so busy with my little tikes' gear and holding court for a positive day of family fun, I didn't notice my dad struggle with his boots. My eyes met his and they were definitively worried. Beads of sweat had sprung on his brow and the table was still shaking in reverberation from the work conducted underneath it. I dropped the kids' third layer of outer garments and bent down to help. If I thought of anything initially about the situation, I probably considered the challenging angle and that my dad refuses to upgrade any of 25+ year old footwear. I knelt in front of him and together we got one buckle done which hitched the situation for the rest of the line on the boot. I was so busy buckling and eyeing to make sure that the tikes didn't make a dash for the door, that it almost didn't register when my father said, "oh Nell. I used to buckle your boots and now look, you are buckling mine."

That was the day I buckled my two kids' boots, my father's boots and my own boots.

In this marked integer of time, I am needed. My hands are capable and the 1980s plastic has got nothing on my nimble digits. I was probably somewhat grateful to those who buckled my boots when I was young. I am acutely grateful to those whose buckles I may help with today.