Copyright 2001
Although the names have been changed and this is a slightly fictionalized story, it is dedicated to my daughter who has persevered with courage, hope and love to become the wonderful woman she is today.
Cindy could hear the music drifting down the hall and into the room where she waited. She
could not quite make out the words her friend Pam was singing, but she knew the words by
heart. It was a beautiful melody, one she had been humming for weeks. Shifting her gaze from
the clear blue sky outside the window, she could see the autumn colors taking hold on the
surrounding trees, red and gold, yellow and brown. And yes, still some green holding on as
though unable to admit that summer was gone and winter white not far away.
There had been a lot of color in her life...a lot of red anger, frustration, misunderstanding
all a part of being a prisoner of this wheelchair, of this malformed body, of having to depend on
others for so much. Someone else must get her up each morning, care for her personal needs,
get her dressed; must reach for things she could not reach; must retrieve things she dropped;
must lift things she could not lift and must provide transportation hither and yon for every
occasion. Some people were more dependable than others, some more understanding, but there
were always those days when tempers flared and communication failed and it would have been
so much easier to end it all with a razor and a flow of dark red blood (had she the courage to do
so) and free all of them of the burden of her existence.
And there had been a ton of brown dull, listless days, heavy endless stretches of empty hours,
each one following on the heels of the next like elephants plodding slowly, trunk to tail, heavy
with the weight of ennui, great tiresome brown beasts plodding on and on. But, thinking back on
it now, it was the contrast of color which had made her life a real and vibrant entity, for there
had been days of brilliant gold and sunny yellow as well true golden friendships which had
outlasted all exterior forces; and good times, sun-bright with laughter and gaiety and
camaraderie. Yes, there had been golden nuggets to treasure, and she smiled at the memory of
those cherished times and friends.
Blue yes, she had been blue. Friends had come and friends had gone, both male and female.
"Time and tide waits for not man..." or woman. Their lives had met and joined and passed as
each one moved on to other commitments, marriage, family, and careers. She missed them all,
some more than others. There had been a lot of male friends... but no boyfriends throughout the
years... not really, well, maybe one. There had been Jim of course dear, sweet Jim dirty
rotten son of a b....! Well, maybe not that bad. He had, after all, asked her to marry him...then
promptly disappeared, never to be seen again. If she could just get her hands around his skinny
little neck (and had the strength to twist it)...Yes, buckets of tears had been shed in the darkness
for dear old Jim. Blue, she had been blue for months after Jim.
And then there was Bill. Chance alone had brought them together. A brother with a penchant for
computers who had the number of a computer dating bulletin board. Why not, she had thought,
a computer was a rather anonymous way of meeting someone. They couldn't see what you
looked like on the other end of a computer and she didn't have to meet anyone if she didn't want
to, just be electronic pen pals and never tell them what she looked like or what she was. She had
sent in the $5.00 membership fee and personality profile and found it fun to check the computer
each day for e-mail. She had several fellows writing regularly, asking for more details or
wanting to meet her. She enjoyed the game of keeping them at bay, and never revealing the
"real" Cindy.
And then there was Bill. Bill, who left a letter one day and two the next and three the next. Bill,
who somehow got under her skin and into the depths of her soul. Bill, who managed to get her to
reveal her secret self, the inner woman, the outer woman, the whole life story -- the good, the
bad and the unspeakable. She didn't know why she told him. She only knew he was easy to talk
to and their conversations moved from computer to telephone and their calls lasted for hours,
several times each week...and Bill lived 500 miles away...hours and hours talking, touching,
connected only by miles and miles of cables...but touching nonetheless. Her cheeks blushed pink
at the thought of all the ways they had touched. When they weren't on the phone they wrote
letters and exchanged photos. And, he wasn't shocked at her appearance for the phone calls
didn't lessen after he knew the shape of her body and the extent of her handicap.
And then there was Bill. Bill, who began to visit on weekends and learned to drive the van she
used so they could go out alone to dinner, or a movie, or to the park, or just go strolling through
the shopping malls.
So deep in thoughts of Bill had she become that she was startled when her father slipped quietly
into the room and touched her gently on the shoulder. His black tuxedo complimented his dark
hair and the cummerbund helped to disguise the slight paunch of middle-age. Looking into his
eyes, she asked, "Is it time?"
He nodded...and she could see the moisture glistening like quicksilver in his eyes. Turning her
wheelchair, she took his hand and they left the room together. The soft whir of its motor echoed
in the empty hallway.
She stopped briefly at the double doors, just long enough to adjust the long white skirt and
assure herself that it wouldn't get caught in her wheels, and then, with her father at her side,
began the long walk down the aisle, holding a bouquet of lavender roses and delicate baby's breath.
And then there was Bill, ...waiting at the alter for his bride.
