One step followed another, mindful of keeping my feet angled to each other so as not to trip. With my helper holding my left elbow, with the cane on my right, we slowly circled the court, its melting resembling Antarctica’s fragile out-cropping of ice. Ahead of us, the sun’s caricature cavorted like acrobats performing in a two-penny circus: balance was critical to the performance.

Snow-covered lawns, both hilly and flat, bumped in places like snoozing polar bears. Puddled sidewalks mirrored scraggly limbs from above; ice-melt-stained pavement resembled a child’s smear of cookie dough; fragile embroidered-like ice crystals edged bleached grass, the split second before melting: such impressions suggest focusing upon the area around my feet rather than around me. Yet, the firm hold of my helper allowed these choice impressions imprinted upon my imagination.

Then, a pause and a snatch of air. Above, ivory-blue skies invited awe: its expanse cradled the houses beneath, exposing pieces of black and brown tiles and dripping gutters. All is as it supposed to be, this benign afternoon.

I can still walk.