Love in the time of sickness, September 10

David has a new habit. He reaches out and shakes hands with almost every single person we walk by as I wheel him around the streets of New York. He waves to everyone. At first I was appalled and pushed the wheelchair just that much faster.

I don’t do that anymore. Everyone he speaks to smiles. Everyone he speaks to stops. Some people even stop chattering on their cell phones to exchange a couple of words with David.

The conversations are pretty much one sided. He warns: “Wear… a helmet when you’re on a motorcycle.” People appear to be captivated by his smile and the fuzziness of innocence that appears in his eyes. Most of all, I believe, they are drawn to his unbridled joy of being alive.

We stayed in today.

Me, David and Goodie (our new kitten).

I have been able to wean David off fast food.

I have been able to introduce David to water.

“When will I stop drinking water?” He’ll ask almost every time now.

“Never. You will never stop drinking water. Water is going to help you get up off the wheelchair.”

No one. Not one single person understands why I want to help David. None of my friends. None of the people who stop by to visit. None of my neighbors. No one.

To them, it seems like a chore.

It’s difficult.

But it’s not a chore. I get to witness a miracle every single day. I see progress every single day. Some days may be more difficult than others. A couple of moments during a good day make all the bad ones disappear.

The other day someone referred to me as a “caregiver.” My response was “No, I am a love giver.”

David is happy.

The kitten is happy.

My cup runneth over.

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2016 Kirby Sommers Copyright

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