You are my left leg.
You are a part of me, a part of my being that I know I’ve taken for granted. You keep me balanced and whole and make going through the daily motions of life simple, easy, bearable. You hold me firmly rooted to the ground, you make putting one foot in front of the other (which is the original title of your song for me, oh by the way) an unconscious decision. You are my left leg.
But here’s the thing – I can live without my left leg. You aren’t my heart, or my lungs, so please don’t flatter yourself and think that you are. Yes, the separation was excruciating, hard to deal with and messy. I’ve had to adjust to life without you. And I’ve done a decent job of it, I think. I’ve tried the wheelchair but having people have to push me through each day is hard on me and unfair to them. I’ve tried the crutch but it just made me weaker and almost unable to stand at all. I’m trying out prosthetic after prosthetic and here’s the thing – they almost fit. Almost but not quite. There are still those moments where I’m very aware of the fact that they aren’t you. Something feels off, my feet can’t touch the ground, there’s an ache that I can’t deny anymore. And there is no replacement that can change the fact that you are my left leg.
I’ve made adjustments and I suppose you have too. I can’t expect things to be rehabilitated overnight and I can’t expect instant gratification. But here’s what I’ve learned. Life without my left leg is doable. It’s not pleasant, but it’s doable. I just liked my life a lot better with my left leg in it and I would like it back. And this thing that you’re doing? Trying to stand alone as someone else’s foundation? It’s not going to work for long. After all, you are my left leg.