Brave

Chapter 18: Getting My Life Back

It's been three months since my accident. The days and weeks pass more quickly now that I've got my focus and determination on relearning to walk. My left leg is almost completely healed and I'm growing accustomed to the prosthetic leg. I even walk around the neighborhood with my parents most nights. Many of our neighbors come out to say hi or even to cheer me on a little. And the funny thing is that it doesn't really bother me anymore. I'm walking. That's kind of a big deal after what happened to me. It's nice to see that others really care about my progress and my well-being.

I still have moments when I get angry or tired or just feel sorry for myself. No matter how well-made my prosthesis is, it's still a fake leg. My real one is never coming back, so I still have to make peace with the fact that my body is and always will be different than it was before.

May comes quickly and with it, bright skies and warm temperatures. Ethan and I see each other often, even outside of the therapy clinic. One exceptionally sunny day, Ethan calls to ask if I want to go on a picnic.

He arrives at about 11AM and whisks me off to Frances Park, along the Grand River in Lansing. It's a beautiful park, even though the river itself is nothing special. The grounds boast beautiful flower gardens, replete with roses of every kind. Of course, being early May, the flowers are only beginning to bloom, and the green growth is starting to cover the brown of winter.

There are scenic pillars and arbors, and two sets of stone steps leads to a lookout point over the river. The pergola there is completely secluded in the summer when the vines grow thick over the top of it. This is the spot Ethan chooses for our picnic. There are stone benches for us to sit on, which he covers with a blanket since it can still be a bit cool in May. He even brought a small collapsible camp table so we wouldn't have to hold the food on our laps.

"Wow, you thought of everything," I say, feeling quite impressed.

"What can I say? I like picnics."

I throw my head back and laugh. He's so comfortable, confident...I don't know, I can't exactly come up with the right word, but he continues to surprise me at every turn.

He sets out the food that he's prepared, egg salad sandwiches, cucumbers, strawberries, and some chips. We dig in, happily munching while enjoying the growing warmth of the day.

"I think I'm finally getting it," I say, out of the blue.

"Finally getting what?" Ethan asks.

"I'm finally grasping the reality of this," I say, motioning to my leg. "Like I know it's real now. My leg is gone and never coming back."

Ethan laughs a little. "That would be a pretty neat trick to see your leg grow back."

I nudge him a bit and say, "You know what I mean. I guess I've accepted it. So that's a good thing, right?"

"It's a very good thing," he says, handing me a paper cup filled with lemonade.

"But I guess I'm still not happy about it."

"No? I thought you'd be jumping for joy right now," he teases.

"Maybe I'm not explaining this right. Just because I know this is my new reality, it doesn't mean I'm happy about it. I don't like that this has all been decided for me, you know. I just wonder if I'll always feel this way."

"I hear you," he replies. "I think you'll eventually work through the anger. I mean I hope you do. It doesn't make for a very peaceful life if you hold on to the anger. Who or what exactly are you angry with?"

I shrug as if it should be obvious. "God, I suppose. I wish he had something better in mind for me than to spend the rest of my life disabled. I always thought I'd accomplish something great. If you hadn't noticed, I'm pretty ambitious. But I feel like God is telling me, Nope, you have to settle for mediocre."

"Do you think I'm mediocre?" He asks, which surprises me.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I lost something, too," he replies simply.

"Right, I know. I shouldn't compare. But not having part of my body just makes me feel so helpless, I guess."

"Well, if you want to know my thoughts on this," he says, and then he turns to give me a lopsided grin. "God doesn't have mediocre plans for any of us. His plans are greater than we can possibly imagine. The problem is that we're so intelligent that we start to think we can achieve greatness on our own. We can't, really. We have to tap into what God gave us – in our hearts, our character, our personality, our convictions."

"You should be a motivational speaker," I say, giggling a little.

"Oh?" He asks. "I could see that. Of course, you might be my only follower."

"I'm serious. Do you have any idea how much you inspire me?" I ask, and then I bite my lip, thinking maybe that was too much. I don't want him to get the wrong idea.

Well, not yet, anyway.

A serious look crosses his face and I look down, feeling slightly embarrassed. After a long silence, he says, "I'm honored by that. You inspire me, too."

"You don't have to say that," I tell him, now feeling even more embarrassed that he felt like he had to return the sentiment.

He touches my cheek and gently turns my head to face him when he speaks with sincerity. "I mean it. You've been through a major trauma, and whether you feel it or not, you are tough and courageous, and your attitude inspires me. I've seen you have some pretty awful days in therapy and I've seen you have some really successful days. But you keep plugging away at it, not giving up. And you make me...." He pauses, searching for the right word. He eventually continues in almost a whisper, "You make me want to be a better man, so I can be good enough for you."

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. How can he possibly think that he's not good enough for me. If anything, I feel like I'm the one who's not good enough for him.

"Ethan," I begin, but then I don't really know what to say.

"You don't have to say anything," he tells me. "I didn't say that to make you feel guilty or obligated to me somehow. It's just how I feel."

Wow. I'm really not sure how to respond. We finish our lunch quietly, and maybe a bit awkwardly. All the while, my heart is racing and I'm wondering just how serious he is about me.

When we're all packed up, he suggests we take a walk. We start out walking to the lookout over the river. "Have you ever been on the Michigan Princess?" He asks, referring to the old-fashioned steamboat that sails the Grand River.

"When I was little, I think."

"It's great," he sighs. "We should take a cruise on it some time."

"That sounds fun."

We walk along, admiring the new growth around the park, the fresh flower buds just beginning to open. As we inspect the rose bushes, I stumble a little along the path and I feel Ethan's hands grabbing me around the waist.

"All right?" He asks, taking the opportunity to pull me firmly against him and I find that I don't want him to let go. Maybe I should say my leg gave out.

But instead, I tell him, "I just tripped on that little crack in the sidewalk."

He takes one of my hands in his and we keep walking. It takes me by surprise how much I appreciate this gesture, along with all of his other acts of kindness. Especially when, just a few months ago, I was so confused.

The confusion is fading. Now I'm just afraid.

Afraid to admit to myself that I really am falling in love.

* * * * *

Another short chapter. Just for fun :)

Frances Park is a real park in Lansing and it's one of my family's favorites. It's nestled along the Grand River, one of two main rivers that run through Lansing and the river itself is definitely not anything you'd ever want to swim in! But the park is gorgeous - the photo at the top is of one of the stone pergolas just starting to come back to life with greenery in the spring.