Monday January 16 2017. I climb into my car and drive against the chaos that is homecoming traffic, heading to Spanish class in Sea Point. School has just reopened after Christmas break. It’s the end of yet another glorious Cape Town summer day and holiday makers and residents alike, people the promenade in droves, determined to enjoy the last glow of sunlight as night beckons.
I have known for some time that there are hawks on the meadow. Some days I would hear a distinct cry from the tree tops and occasionally, be blessed with a rare glimpse. A solitary raptor returning from the hunt. The sudden, silent spreading of wings in hasty ascent as I turned a corner between the trees.
I drove home from the appointment shell-shocked. At 46, I had just been told that I should never run again! It turned out that the back pain that had grown from a niggle to a whining complaint over the past twelve months was my spine letting me know that it had been invaded. Arthritis – advanced enough to be visible on a normal x-ray, – had taken up residence in my lower lumbar vertebrae (along with its companion – Spondylosis).
Watching “Through the Looking Glass” last weekend with my daughters, I found myself eyeball to eyeball with Humpty Dumpty in full 3D roundness. Which reminded me of a time in my life when I felt a deep connection with that hapless egg.