Grateful Legs & The Red Swing

These are two true stories and what I learned from them. I gratefully acknowledge the beautiful community of disabled or handicapped individuals who face challenges with extreme determination. In you is a strength that leaves me awe struck.

March 2015 – I Learned Gratefulness for My Legs

              Grateful

My two boys and I were coming out of the craft store when I noticed a young woman in a motorized wheel chair sitting behind a van that was parked in the handicapped parking spot. Someone had parked in the extra space reserved for wheel chair access next to her van. I asked if she needed help. She said “I can’t put down the ramp to get into my van because the car is in the way. I hate to do it, but I called the police to come tow the car. Usually I just wait until the driver returns but I have to pick up my son in twenty minutes so I really need to leave.” She laughed and added “And to make matters worse the battery in my chair just went dead so I am stuck here in the parking lot!” I felt an ache in my heart that ran down to my perfectly functional legs. I asked her if this sort of thing with the parking happened often and she said it did. I talked with her for a couple minutes about Mom related things, school, flu season etc and then when I saw the police car coming I felt comfortable leaving her. She thanked me for my kindness and I apologized for the thoughtless driver who had parked there, whomever they were. She smiled and said “It’s fine, but I think it’s strange that people who are able to walk always want the closest parking spot. They avoid walking. It has been twelve years since I lost the use of my legs. I don’t even remember what walking feels like.” The rest of the week I parked in the farthest parking place of every store I went into, appreciating every step I am able to take.

November 2014 –  I Learned Disabilities are More Common than I Thought

My boys and I were at the park. I was reading some absorbing Scifi novel while the kids were playing. Soon my attention was drawn away to a family that arrived. Mom, Dad, Grandma and two whiny girls. The three adults were loud, obnoxious and did not even try to hide the arguments that continually erupted amongst them. Then Grandma took two steps from the playground and lit up a cigarette. Dad said he was going for a walk to “cool off” over the last argument. Mom sat down in the chair swing. This chair swing is an unusual swing we have at our favorite playground. It is large and made of hard red plastic. It is very comfortable and will hold even a large adult. It is the only swing like it at the park. Obnoxious Mom relaxed in the chair swing and began looking at Pintrest on her jewel encrusted phone. I went back to my book for awhile until I heard a noise that drew my attention away again. Two women were coming into the playground. One was dressed in purple scrubs and holding the hand of a woman who was easily forty years old but clearly had the mind of a very young child. The developmentally disabled woman was shouting “The red swing! The red swing!” Her smile was one of those contagious grins that always strike me as a strange irony. How can something so sad and unfair be at the same time so beautiful and charming?

The two women stopped near the red swing and I could see the woman in scrubs explaining to her patient that she would need to wait until the obnoxious Mom was done. And so they did, for a full ten minutes. Obnoxious Mom sat in the big red swing staring at her phone and ignoring the constant loud chatter of the disabled woman who kept asking about the red swing.  Finally the woman in scrubs said to obnoxious Mom “Excuse me, can she have a turn on the red swing? That is what we came here for and she will be so disappointed if we leave and she did not get to go on it.” Obnoxious Mom heaved a heavy sigh of exasperation and slowly stood up. I thought she was going to walk away without a word but then she turned to the two women and said “You know, just because she is handicapped does not giver her the right to be rude.” The woman in scrubs ignored her, she was already pushing the swing and listening to her patient squeal with joy.

Obnoxious Mom went and stood next to Grandma who was lighting up her next cancer stick and began grumbling about how she had lost her spot on the red swing. Around this time Dad had apparently cooled off and he returned. He immediately began shouting at the two little girls for doing things that they had been safely doing the whole time he was away. Grandma started snapping at him to leave the girls alone and then the arguments erupted anew.

I am a people watcher not a people interact-er. Usually. What had started like a little flicker of heat in my stomach that tells me I am getting angry had been growing into an all consuming fire throughout my body. I set my book down roughly and walked up to the three adults whose voices were rising and starting to be sprinkled with profanity.  I stood in front of Grandma and took a breath to settle my nerves. I pointed at her lit cigarette and held my finger steady as I spoke “You can’t smoke this close to a playground.” Then my finger traveled to the Dad who had just dropped an F bomb while I was walking up “Please stop using profanity around my children” and then my finger traveled to obnoxious Mom. My hand was starting to shake because out of all three of these offensive people, she offended me the worst. I pointed at her and just shook my head, no, there was nothing I could say. How do you tell a complete stranger that they disgust you? I let my hand drop to my side and returned to the bench where my book was.

The three adults whispered things about me to each other. I could make out the words “rude” and “the nerve”. They left quickly after that. Apparently the local park holds no joy for them unless they can smoke, cuss and treat people like garbage without even the lightest of repercussions.

I watched the woman in the swing for awhile. Her uninhibited delight was contagious. Then the woman in purple scrubs told her it was time to go. The disabled woman got down without complaint and just as she was leaving waved to my oldest son and said in a childish manner “Do you want a turn on the red swing?” My son smiled at her and said “Sure!”

I watched as the woman in scrubs and the joyful lady she takes care of left the park hand in hand. I realized that of all the people I had watched that evening, this woman’s disability’s were by far not the worst ones I had seen.

G.R.