Walking

Today I walked in Betty Boot without crutches for the first time, all the way to the end of the driveway and back. I expected it to feel like a big moment, but it was quieter than that. My leg felt shaky. My balance wasn’t perfect. The walk that usually feels short suddenly felt longer than I remembered.

I had to adjust my expectations as I went. I wanted steady strides, but my body offered careful ones. I wanted to feel strong, but my body reminded me I’m still rebuilding. It was a small reminder that progress doesn’t mean I’m fully back. It means I’m moving, slowly, toward where I want to be.

As I made my way back toward the house, I kept thinking about the studio. About clay waiting to be opened. About the wheel sitting quietly in the corner. I’ve been imagining my return like I could just sit down and pick up where I left off, but today made it clear that I need to start small there too.

If I want to throw again, I need to return to the fundamentals. Centering with patience. Throwing smaller forms. Letting my hands remember the feel of the clay before asking them to do anything more. My body is relearning how to move. My pottery will need to relearn how to move through me. Both require slowing down. Both require practice.

Walking to the end of the driveway and back wasn’t the triumphant moment I pictured. But it was a real one. And maybe that’s the right kind of beginning as I step back into the studio.

I will walk slowly. I will throw slowly. I will rebuild both the way anything worth doing is rebuilt. With patience. With practice. With the basics leading the way.