Counting steps

I count my steps several times a day, when doing chores, climbing the stairs, back and forth, back and forth. I always lose count, over and over, but each step is noticed, so able, so quick, so safe. So different from treatment steps, full of fear, pain, dread, so unsurmountable. I remember the year of checking my distance from chair to chair, could I make it? Being unable to cross the yard, unable to leave the car, the bathroom just having to wait. I remember the earth that held me, the weight that pressed me, the stillness that kept me sane. Now back and forth, back and forth, the pantry, the fridge, the kitchen sink, step, step, step, step, so light, so easy. I watch my feet press, push, pull and reach, so mesmerizing. How can it be... so full of magic.