Tuesday, October 20, 2015
What would it be like to wake up knowing that she would go to school each day? Would I be able to make and keep plans and appointments?
What would it be like if she could walk? Would my knees and back be in less pain?
What would it be like if she could talk? Would she tell me where it hurts?
Monday, July 8, 2013
Last month, I was frantically running around getting stuff done for the end of the school year, and remember taking Jennah along on one of my errands. I remember parking in the disabled parking spot at Starbucks and began the process of unloading Jennah and her gear. I was putting together the pieces of her wheelchair at the back of the van when I heard little footsteps approaching from across the street. I looked up to see a little girl, perhaps 3 years old, crossing the street with her very pregnant mother. She pointed at Jennah’s chair and said, “look, there’s a baby coming out of that van!”
Her mom said, “I don’t think that’s a baby stroller, but do you want to go say hi?” The mom looked up at me inquiringly, to which I enthusiastically nodded in approval.
They came over and watched me unload Jennah. I think the little girl was a bit surprised to see a big 5-year old girl being hauled out and strapped into a chair, but her mom did a wonderful job of easing any of her concerns by chatting about Jennah’s hair (people love J’s hair!), her orthotics, tubing, and special chair. The little girl reached out and held Jennah’s hand, and with permission, touched her orthotics, which has butterflies printed on them. It was obvious that I was in a rush, so I thanked the mom for introducing her daughter to Jennah and we parted. As I walked away, I realized I had a huge smile on my face and that the brief encounter had made my day. It may have been an insignificant “hello” for the mom and little girl, but for me, I think still back on it and smile.