My bare feet pushed my travel wheelchair along the hallway. Then I turned right and was face to face with our screen door. And I pushed right up next to it. Holding my head up but my neuro/ vision are very iffy. One wrong move of the eyes or head and I can swiftly go into an episode or small seizure. Moving my eyes along scenery is very challenging. It was one of the first things to go when Lyme attacked my brain in 2017. I used to crawl me and my daughter to backyard and sit up in grass back then but my brain couldn’t make out everything anymore. I was constantly going into brain shaking episodes. Not very safe. Many falls happened at my house and playgrounds in my last throes of trying to be upright. Something was happening. But let’s not forget, I was told to push through. Just anxiety. No, anxiety… it was not it turns out.
But I’ve had glimpses of more ‘stability’ at times this year. So, I pulled up to the grass and took it all in. The green grass, my beautiful brave tulip tree, my stairs, the curved sidewalk. I looked down (very carefully as to not provoke an episode) and I studied those stairs. I imagined what my feet used to look like gliding down them many times a day to take children to parks and schools and grocery stores. To garden. I loved growing food. And around this time every year, I would leave bags on neighbors porches. I closed my eyes and I heard my daughter walk up. My senses have become so attuned past 6 years. People talk about it here. I can tell who someone is by their footsteps alone.
“Mama, what are you doing?”
Me: “dreaming of what it’s like to be outside again”
She’s never seen me outside beyond ambulance stretchers. She has no memories of our pre- this way life when I could dance with her and hike with her on my back… and so many beautiful things.
And then she smiled. And then I smiled. And then I played this song and stared at the sidewalk I had poured when she was an infant. I still remember the large snake the workers found. He was living underneath my front step the entire time…every step I took up and down with my baby or son …and yet I never knew. Snakes are sneaky like that.
But I’ve had glimpses of more ‘stability’ at times this year. So, I pulled up to the grass and took it all in. The green grass, my beautiful brave tulip tree, my stairs, the curved sidewalk. I looked down (very carefully as to not provoke an episode) and I studied those stairs. I imagined what my feet used to look like gliding down them many times a day to take children to parks and schools and grocery stores. To garden. I loved growing food. And around this time every year, I would leave bags on neighbors porches. I closed my eyes and I heard my daughter walk up. My senses have become so attuned past 6 years. People talk about it here. I can tell who someone is by their footsteps alone.
“Mama, what are you doing?”
Me: “dreaming of what it’s like to be outside again”
She’s never seen me outside beyond ambulance stretchers. She has no memories of our pre- this way life when I could dance with her and hike with her on my back… and so many beautiful things.
And then she smiled. And then I smiled. And then I played this song and stared at the sidewalk I had poured when she was an infant. I still remember the large snake the workers found. He was living underneath my front step the entire time…every step I took up and down with my baby or son …and yet I never knew. Snakes are sneaky like that.
