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Grandmas Wheelchair My childhood home had an apartment downstairs. The rooms were where my Grandma resided. She had a long brick walkway lined with flowerbeds that bloomed bouquets during all seasons. When the rain quit falling and allowed the sun to shine, she and my mother ventured outside to partake in nature’s wonderful aroma. I would watch from the upstairs window as Grandmas wheelchair went over the slight bump that announced the advent onto the lawn. Mothers navigation had mastered the worn trail and the wheels of the chair hummed on their journey. A child's curiosity crept through the glass, making my feet bound out the door to listen to the stories of Grandmas life. Her words were like a magical interlude. They vibrated into me as she sung of her youth. As I walked beside her, I waited for the wink her sparkling eyes had reserved just for me. When it came, I knew it was time to head towards the house and the lesson that only Grandma knew how to teach me. . The walls of Grandmas rooms showcased pictures of her life. Her majestic stature boasted a sure smile that dared photographers to minimize her nobility. I would stand upon the piano stool to listen to her wisdom while gazing into the eyes of my heritage. It is in Grandmas humble chambers where I began to discover who I am. I have become heir to Grandmas wheelchair, along with her strong conviction in living. Her undaunted smile comes to my memories surface. It offers me strength and encouragement as I begin to learn acceptance of my fate. I sit upon the silver throne of my inheritance holding my head high with pride. . As she sings to the melody of my humming wheels, her words caress my ear with lessons of dignity. She reminds me that I am a creation of God and that nothing more in life matters. Grandma learned how to overcome obstacles, and now holds my hand in hers as she accompanies me down my walkway lined with flowerbeds. |
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