Freely Walking

April 27, 2009
By Taylor Thompson BRONZE, Mission Hills, Kansas
Taylor Thompson BRONZE, Mission Hills, Kansas
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I was eight years old when I changed, not only did my outside change but so did my inside. The dreams I once had shattered before my eyes and the person I loved the most disappeared. I used to believe that God had plans for me; that I was special. Now, I’m not so sure. Today is my twentieth birthday, and I still am haunted with the thought of never growing up. Inside I feel like my age but the outside is a different story. I will never be independent, never have a job, never get married, and probably never have a family. Never getting to live a life free of doubt sounds pretty dull, hopefully one day I will be carefree.

I’m sitting in my chair waiting for my younger sister, Essie, to come in and help me get dressed. She slowly mumbles something rude to my father as she ascends the stairs. I feel like the heaviest burden on my sister’s back. As her soft graceful hands open the door I wheel myself into my closet, so I don’t have to face her. She huffs and puffs while she heaves herself into the mess of my closet. It overflows the most beautiful pieces of silk, satin, and chiffon, but none help dull the pain. Essie finally helps me into a gorgeous red chiffon pleated dress, which would look way better on her slender body. I try to look at myself in the mirror but all I see is a cripple, not beauty.

On our way to my party my dad hangs his head in silence, knowing he will spend many more birthdays with me at home. Our van pulls into a handicap space as the ramp is lowered. Essie steers me out into the moonlight lot and I see the oak door of my favorite Italian restaurant. Dinner is fine except for the fact that one person is missing. When it is time to leave my clothes linger on the smell of parmesan cheese and hearty tomato sauce. When home my sister ushers me up in the elevator and helps me take off my dress. I slip into my favorite pajamas with rose petals on them; my mom’s favorite flower. My dad tucks me into my covers and wishes me a happy birthday. Though his message is cheerful his face hides the pain, and the words come out like a nightmare.

Dozing off I remember this night twelve years ago, and tears drip down my made up face. I here my family, or at least what’s left of it, downstairs praying. I used to pray but what good did it do? I still ache for my old dreams back and a normal life. I still believe that God will help me; his power is just beyond my belief. Soon I will see my family joined together once again. The light is almost here; and it will find me. I try to hide my blubbering sobs, but I can’t pick up the pillow to suppress them. Stopping my crying I imagine a day when I will be free of debts, guilt, and sadness. I envision a day when God will let me walk freely again. Soon I doze off into a deep sleep, and hope to never awake again.

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