Coming full circle

When I saw Daddy yesterday, I was very pleased to note that he was no longer passive in his wheelchair. He was rolling it along and scooting with his feet. The nursing staff said he had taken a great interest in doing so, and since the words haven't been real positive that a) he'll walk again unassisted or b) he might not even be trusted in a walker, this was good news to me. It's only been 5 weeks since his broken hip and progress keeps a smile on my face.

But yesterday, he was heading out doors. I opened the door for him but wouldn't push him over the threshold. This he accomplished quite handily himself even if he did frown at me. He wanted to go to the end of the row of chairs which look out over the enclosed lawn and garden area. I thought we'd settle down together and coment on the trees, clouds, and weather, him in his wheelchair and me in the rocker.

But no. He wanted to make the sidewalk loop. And he wanted me to push him.

No way. I walked behind him, keeping him straight and encouraging him. I walked in front of him and urged him on. We did just fine until the slope became a bit uphill, no problem if you're walking, but pushing your 200+ pound self in a wheelchair was daunting. I gave in and pushed him over the hump until he could handle it again himself.

Then it struck me. I'd come full circle, from this man guiding me on my first set of bike training wheels and then giving me a shove to start my bicycling on my own. I was 5 or 6 and I was scared. Riding a bike has a big learning curve. He must have felt as I did yesterday, watching him struggle to push and wheel. I didn't want him to go off the sidewalk or tump over. He wouldn't have wanted me to fall and hurt myself, but he knew I'd have to learn. I knew he would.

From daughter to parent. Daddy and I are still in training wheels.