A Riddle

A riddle from the Greek play "Oedipus the King":

"What creature walks on four feet in the morning, on two at noon and on three in the evening?"

I remember this riddle from grade school. At the time all I could think of were animals from Africa. Of course, since it was school we didn't have to wait long to be told the answer. Then it seemed a trick since "creature" didn't refer to a "wild" animal and the timeframe of one day didn't really refer to twenty-four hours.

So the answer -

the creature is "Man." As an infant, he crawls on all fours at the beginning or "dawn" of his life; when grown, he walks upright; when old, he walks with a cane.

It seems like Robin's journey now is much the reverse of a young child's. Weeks ago when she met her niece's son Dillon (who is about five months old), they seemed to share some common traits. They were both relatively bald, they shared some degree of limited mobility, and they were both changing. Dillon's been picking up new skills, while Robin has been giving up skills acquired over a lifetime.

The thought first struck me just after New Year's (when Robin was in the hospital) that her ability to travel and to do things was become more limited. Just over a year ago she had traveled to China - taking a fourteen hour plane ride. Yet as she lay in the hospital bed even a two hour plane trip seemed beyond her capability.

Each week now she loses some strength and some ability. At one point I looked at this as a sad thing, but in reality it seems like it's just part of the process. Instead of being scared each time she loses some capability, I try to view it as one more step along her path, simply part of the natural process. Milestones in a way, but maybe not events to be scared of, maybe in some odd way they are changes to be celebrated - signs that she's moving toward her destination. I'm sure her view and mine are different much of the time. She still talks about herself regaining strength and stamina, while I see those characteristics drifting out of her range. I see her legs getting thinner. I see more details on her bald head, like little bumps and lines. All I can imagine is that she's losing body fat from all over, so in some areas I'm seeing details which used to be smoothed over by thicker skin.

We've talked about her changes before, but she attributes them to not having enough time to improve herself (i.e. too many visitors). Once in a while reality inserts itself with a reminder, like sometimes she can't get out of bed without assistance, or she stumbles slightly as I walk with her to and from the bathroom. I certainly am not the one to define her capabilities. I think Robin defines them herself every day, though eventually her body will not be able to perform all the instructions that her mind commands.