I had the honor of writing a piece for the National MS Society’s Momentum Magazine — an article about my mom’s MS and experiences as a carepartner (which is currently being featured on their homepage!). I am excited to share a section of the article here, while linking to the full piece on their site below. My mother passed seven years ago, and I wrote this in first person from my late teens.

In Her Shoes: Reflections From A Morning Run

It is not lost on me. I get to do this.

I pick up my running shoe and shove my foot into it, then the other. To tie the laces, I prop my foot up against the bottom step of the staircase and make them snug enough to run but not so snug that my feet go numb. I wiggle my toes to test the tie. It’s just right, so I turn to leave.

My mother’s shoes, scattered about near the door among the others of my family, are all slip-on. A pair of worn Dr. Scholl’s are her favorite, with their slide-on ease and slip-resistant soles. Laces, buttons and zippers are all fastenings that her fingers can no longer wield. I side-step the footwear and pull the front door open.

Down one step and onto the declining driveway, I take off in a run. The gravel crunches beneath my feet and the verdant spring air beckons me to the road. There is a subtle breeze against my bare arms in the quiet twilight morning, and I feel the embrace of a familiar solitude. Others are just stirring from their slumber, and I am here — early and alone, leaving at a moment’s notice to meet the open road — because I can.

Later, my mother will leave with me on an outing to the grocery store, where she beams at everyone while using the shopping cart as a walking device. With her at my side, I’ll have to remind myself to slow down; to steady her on the step out the door and to stay close as she navigates the sloping driveway with the efficiency of a toddler learning to walk. If she loses her balance and tumbles to the ground, she could break her foot or gash open her forehead or sprain her wrist. These things, unfortunately, have already happened.