Diversity Rules Magazine

Her most recent book, An American Queer, a collec on of "The Amazon Trail" columns, was presented with the 2015 Golden Crown Literary Society Award in Anthology/Col- lec on Crea ve Non Fic on. This, and her award-winning fic on, including The Raid, The Swashbuckler, and Beggar of Love, can be found at h p://www. boldstrokes- books.com/ Author-Lee- Lynch.html. Since childhood, I have been looking for- ward to growing old enough to know pre y much which end is up in life, to reaching So- cial Security age in order to write full- me, and to tackle mature subjects in my work. I find it strange that just when I've reached something like that balance, I've lost my rela vely reliable physical balance. I've never been with a lover this long, and now I've pledged a permanence, called marriage, that I've learned to respect. Since the age of eighteen, I've never lived in one home this long. My recent stability has enabled me, I believe, to write more complex stories that feature more thoroughly devel- oped characters and, because of my years of travel along the roads of lesbian culture, especially with my sweetheart, I can offer readers more varied and de- tailed se ngs. But I fall over. I traverse our home like a metal pinball looking to bump every target if only to score a jack- pot of bruises. I adore my sweetheart, but when I go to hug her, or dance with her, it's only, thank good- ness, my s ll-quick reflexes that cover mild flounder- ing. She doesn't need to catch me yet, though I'm not too proud to take her hand when picking my way up or down rocks, dri wood and slick sand to and from our wild beaches. It's my sweetheart, a er all, who'd be pushing my wheelchair and cleaning house should I break a leg, a hip, or my dizzy head. I know it's not just me. Strolling the beach yesterday with my sweetheart and our much-loved friend, the walker, the Pacific Ocean supine in its pacific glory, its ripples pped with sunlight, my sweetheart tried to lead us to firmer ground, for easier trekking. The walker and I, both typically unsteady on our feet, missed our cue. We trodded onward, bumping shoulders as one or the other of us teetered while the other to ered. The walker laughed and said she o en bird watched with two other women, one of whom shares our balance problems. The third goes on ahead to es- cape the pinball effect. I've always had problems with balance, in every sense of the word. Plantar fascii s was diagnosed by a salesman at a Buster Brown shoe store when I was a li le kid with painful arches. The stores used won- drous X-Ray Shoe-Fi ng Machines (known as fluo- roscopes in doctors' offices) and were ul mately banned because of radia on leakage. A er consult- ing the infernal machine, the salesman stuck instru- ments of torture called pediatric arch supports in my new shoes. I ditched them asap. I was athle c: running, tennis, fencing. The pain would disappear for a while, then come screaming back, benching me. Today, I wear ortho cs designed with new-fangled CAD/CAM so ware, but, due to bi- lateral knee replacement surgery, I'm cau oned not to run, play tennis, or fence. Amazom Trail - Con't on page 12 The Amazon Trail Standing On My Own Two Feet By Lee Lynch (c) Can Stock Photo Inc. / grsphoto Diversity Rules Magazine|July 2021|11

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