Dreaming of a White...Thanksgiving

If you had asked me a week ago if I thought we'd go ahead and use the tickets we had to Washington, D.C., for the Thankgiving holiday, I would have said "no way." Yet with each twenty-four hour period that passed, I found myself growing stronger.

By late last week we had decided to go for it. But then our hostess got called to Boston, where her mom had been taken to the ICU. The trip was off.

Then we got word that her mom had recovered. On.

So we started thinking about logistics. My doctor had told me I might want to try using a cane, and I had laughed it off. Walking was no problem. But then I actually tried to walk from my doctor's office to see my mother-in-law in the rehab center across the street on Monday. Suddenly I realized the man had known of what he'd spoken. Getting around the house was one thing; walking any sort of distance was quite another. So on Tuesday morning, I called American Airlines and lined up a wheelchair for myself.

When we got to the D/FW airport that evening, we asked for the chair I'd booked. But we were apparently at the wrong gate. The ticketing agent said we could get the wheelchair ten gates down. My husband tried to flag a van to carry us that distance, but the driver laughed us off saying, "It's too close. Not worth driving." Easy for him to say.

So I hobbled my way until I was within three gates of my destination. When I didn't think I could walk any farther, I found an AA agent and said, "I ordered a wheel chair, and I need to get a ride from here [gate 10] to gate 13." She laughed and said, "But you're there." She pointed to it. "It's not worth getting a wheel chair--you're there!" Easy for her to say.

So I started out again. I had taken about ten steps when my husband, Gary, spotted a guy pushing an empty wheelchair. Gary stopped and asked if we could commondeer it for our use.

The young man told him, "It's been requested for someone else, but I'll run you quickly to where you need to go."

We thanked him profusely.

"My grandmother hurt herself and has trouble walking," he said. "I know how it is."

In the past when I've gone to airports and seen people being carted around, I've thought, "Wouldn't it be great to have a ride like that?" But having had my first experience as a disabled person, I know differently. I realize how sweet independence is. No justifying your need to anyone. No waiting until someone has made time in his or her schedule for you. No feeling you're an inconvenience. Just striking out on your own good legs on your own schedule and getting there at the pace you choose.

Of course all the effort to travel has been more than worth it. Last night my daughter stood around with the kids in our relatives' neighborhood warming her hands by a bonfire as snow swirled around her. The white stuff left a fine coating on the bushes, dressing garbage can lids in ermine hats. Back in Texas friends opened windows to cool over-heated rooms, but as the scent of pumpkin and pecan pie promised us a grand tomorrow, on Thanksgiving eve in the 'burbs of Washington, D.C., we had snow.

Today is a day set aside to offer gratitude for our blessings. And on my list this year are a few new items: Surgeons. Pharmaceuticals. Legs that give every promise of working perfectly again soon. That my niece and her husband, rear-ended in Philadelphia last night, have arrived in one piece. That my sister-in-law is not urgently needed today in Boston. For a young man whose love for his grandmother spilled over to others. For a fire on a cold night. And snow.

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