(photo: copyright John Nixon)
Before I leave my room each morning, I carefully select the appropriate cane from the umbrella stand next to my door.
I collect canes, you see. I carry a staff with a hand-carved dog’s head when I go to the park. Lunch at the Ritz warrants a sleek, black ebony beauty, with a silver band bearing my initials. It’s aluminum with a fold-up seat for days at the track. And a hand-polished walking stick made from a gnarled root for O’Leary’s Pub.
Today, I choose undistinguished bamboo for a walk to the thrift shop where I’ll seek out new treasures.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. September 20, 2013.)