This was just some random shit I was born with. It was something to overcome, some foreign and external obstacle that I had to hurtle over - always and forever. Something to manage and deal with "as necessary," a chore to tend to, something to make sure I kept in line and in check: hidden away, neat and tidy. That thing was limited to being a medical rarity, it was a thing that was forever dependent upon others, it required adaptive equipment and constant check-ups, or check-ins.
A few times, this thing, even said check mate -- but I always managed to slip out from its traps, wiping my brow and smiling proudly at having beaten the odds, or been strong in the fight against it. This was a part of me that I was expected to defeat, to pummel and then carry-on with grace, insight, and wit. Because if I didn't I would have succumbed, been defeated, let that thing over take my life -- and we all know that's totally unacceptable. I didn't realize that failing could sometimes feel like flying too, didn't know that when I fell I wouldn't always break.

There were times when this thing drove humongous craters between those closest to me, and I thought that there would never be a way to fill those gaps. I didn't know about the soil I could pour into those bottom-less pits; didn't realize all I had to do was open my clenched-fist-heart for just a few seeds to sprinkle out, and watch the little sprouts grow. I would never have known that a garden could fill those holes, a bridge of memories and experiences that those others and myself could traverse, freely wander and walk through hand-in-hand. I didn't realize that it would be possible to connect.

It wasn't something that had rights, just needs and most of them were special needs. My natural and self-evident rights were limited to the pursuit of a cure, help, and inspiration. There was no history worth speaking of, no history that you couldn't trace in medical files and irregular growth charts, there was no past that hadn't already been depicted in the black and white of an x-ray. Its history had no civil component to it, it was just purely medical, or dutifully recorded in the bullet-points of faded I.E.P. plans. The past of this thing didn't include any action I took in hopes of changing its course, it was always just the hand I was dealt and that was that. No questions asked, move-along now, next in line please.

So, now that I've met you? You've changed all of the above and more, for me. It's not really just any of the above stuff that keeps me going and keeps me coming back. It's the more, part of the story. It's the what-else-to-come chapter, the chapters ahead that we continue to write together. Many rays of shine, and bucket loads of thanks to you.