One last walk, please, Grandpa

So asked the lad on crutches after breakfast on this last morning in Queenstown before heading back to Auckland. He had a specific purpose in mind. He wanted to walk down close to the lake edge so that he could use the great skipping stone he had found about fifteen minutes before he stood on the broken bottle in the stream, severing a tendon and nerve to his big toe.

Apparently his intention had been to use it after the boys had finished their play in and around the stream. He kept all that to himself until this morning and only told me as we walked toward the lake edge from the hotel. He had hopes of getting six or even seven skips with it. Both he and I wondered how he would go about being balanced while throwing, and not fall over after throwing the stone.

As it happened, he found that the gravel beach became much less stable as he approached the lake edge, and the crutches sank further into the gravel. He decided that it wouldn't work, and I was able to suggest that he keep the stone until he comes up to the beach one weekend when he is more mobile, and can have a decent go at using it. Almost gratefully he told me that was a good idea. 

The rain then began, and we headed back to the hotel to close the bags, check out, and head to the airport for our flight home. Everyone was so kind and helpful to him.

The attitude of our hotel's staff restored my faith in the humanity of most people. The assistant manager provided us with taxi chits to the hospital, kept asking after him, and wrote him a lovely letter and gave him a voucher for a local chocolatiere and ice cream shop. The concierge asked about him every day. Many of the other staff did likewise. 

Good to be back home.