I wonder what it was like to have my handicap fifty years ago. Granted people didn’t live without the medical treatments I was lucky to have.
I think of the limits I have and what I would have then, it makes me know I’d have very little reason to even leave my house.
Who would I talk to?
Who would make me laugh?
Who would drive me to keep going?
I like to think my family would be enough.
I don’t think they would be though. I’m a creature of contact. I need to feel the spark of others. They motivate me to better.
My family gave me a reason to want to live but my friends gave me the fight to do it.
I treasure the friends I have. For their magnificence, the glory of being in their presence, sharing their bursts of vibrancy.
How can I not adore these people and the technology that allows me to be a part of their lives?
I think of the possibility of never having that and want to weep at the shattering loneliness the people endured. They suffered. They were truly trapped.
I know as long as I can reach out and there is always someone there I am never alone.
That comforts me when I’m swamped with the memories and fears.
There is a world at my desk.
I’m thankful for it.