As I walk outside to work in the morning I’ve noticed two things as of late. The recent chill in the air, and an old lady who meanders back and forth in front of my apartment most of the early AM. This old lady will take us somewhere else.

There is a long dissecting staircase that leads up the hill behind my apartment and up into the forest. It’s a forgotten staircase nature trail that was commissioned by the school in the olden days. These days the only person I’ve seen wandering up this trail is said staircase madam. At the top of this trail, is a slight hidden trail to the left which leads to an open bluff. You can look out across this bluff and take in scenery for kilo-miles. As I am close to the DMZ, it’s quite interesting to observe the activity of a small Korean base, and some road checkpoints which only military components are allowed to cross. Other than this there are only leveled rice fields and mountains. It’s a place I often bring my binoculars, a bottle of wine, and/or a good friend to. But more importantly, there is the staircase madam, she can’t bend one of her legs,-and she slowly takes steps as she swings one leg in an outward half circle as she hoist herself to the left with the rest of her restless body. I never really took notice of staircase madam, or wondered why she wondered about at 7 AM in the chilly mixed season air until recently.

Some days ago I jumped a fall hiking and did some serious damage to my leg and knee. Since then, I’ve often been in bed or hobbling about with a complex knee brace from which an engineer came to my house and built for my knee, along with, of course- your ever-old-school crutches. And this morning I find that I can’t help but repeatedly glance at the only other person that exist in my world who can’t walk. I suspect this recent phenomenon is related to the unfortunate and more common phenomenons of me not missing or appreciating things until they are gone, and/or not fully understanding the dilemmas or enjoyments of my youth until I am slightly only just, a little less, youthful. There’s not really an ending to this story; just me and the staircase madame.