A Reminder from a Brave Knight

About ten days ago I met a brave knight.

He approached me and introduced himself: "I am Aaron," he said. "I am a brave knight. I live in a palace."

Aaron had dark hair and glasses. Looking at him, as I sat in my wheelchair, we were about eye level.

"I can tell you're brave," I told him, "Because you came to talk with me. A lot of people are afraid of the wheelchair."

Aaron nodded, a serious expression on his face. He asked me why I use the chair and whether I can drive and cook. He was impressed with the way I can make my chair go up and down. That was worth calling his mother over so she could see it too.

She was anxious. "Has he been appropriate?" she asked. I reassured her that I appreciated his curiosity and bravery.

Years ago, in a writing class, I was given the assignment to walk through a neighborhood remembering what I was like when I was a child. The world transformed. The possibility of magic was around every corner. Nothing was predictable...in the best way.

In two days, I am scheduled for surgery: installation of a baclofen pump. I have never had surgery before and I'm a bit scared. My MS has been worsening fairly steadily for 15 years. I am not expecting great things from the next phase of my life.

When I was growing up, I had a poster on my wall with a quote from Cervantes: "Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be."

The brave knight Aaron has reminded me that I can choose to live another way. I can choose to believe in magic, in possibility, in life as it should be.