My cat has her routine down pat. She
watches me intently and as soon as I jump into my wheelchair
she is leads me down the hallway. Keeping dangerously a few inches
ahead of me, she rubs and smooches the doorways, kitchen chairs
and table legs until we are near her bowl. With great expectations
she looks up at me and rubs against the wheels urging me to put
her food out. This is her territory (she thinks), her pathway
to food, her place, she belongs. She is content.
On fine afternoons, when I'm bored,
I climb on to my lovely red mobility scooter and go for a roam
around my neighbourhood. Shall I turn right and explore the gully
or go left to the golf course and park? Or will I scoot around
the whole route? These choices were once closed to me until I
was given my scooter 18 months ago. Now the whole neighbourhood
is open for me to explore and enjoy.
Precious hours I spend sitting under
the trees in the gully, listening to the gurgling creek, delighting
in the glorious leaves fluttering, the breeze on my face, watching
the children in the new playground, racing the ducks in my scooter
and hoping no one is looking.
I wave to someone I know and to many
I don?t know. I stop and have a chat about anything (and their
Yes, a hot cup of coffee would be nice
and the manager swings open both cafe doors and I ride in like
This is my territory, my park, my trees,
my gully, my place, my town. I'm glad I live in Rototuna. This
is my community. This is where I belong. I am content.