The Winds of Change

The sound of a glass crashing into a hundred pieces still sparks a trigger in me. The breaking of furniture and the wailing cry of Elliot as Mum and Dad fought. I can still smell the week-old whiskey drenched into our couch as Dad would often pass out in a drunk haze. Mum wouldn't let him sleep in the room anymore. It was a never-ending war raging through our home; I wondered if anything would ever change. I would watch over Elliot as Mum did her daily morning shift at Rockwell Cafe; the mornings were most peaceful. Dad would wander out of the house before dawn and stumble back at dusk, his old brown coat covered in cigarette burns. Every day upon his entry was when I needed to make my great escape; that’s when it would start. I started becoming used to this routine. As I heard the truck pull into the driveway, I’d pass Elliot over to Mum, slip my trainers on, and run out the backdoor.

The guilt of leaving Mum and Elliot would tear me up on my runs, but I needed this. I trailed down into the forest slowly; the ever-so-peaceful soundtrack of caroling birds consumed me. I paced my way through the narrowing trail, knowing each part of the forest now by the back of my hand. The silver birch trees towering over me, sunbeams glistening through the leaves. My favorite part was making my way up to the lake; oh, the tranquility would brush over me like a gentle breeze. I would sit out for as long as I could, although the run back home wasn't so serene. The anxiousness would take over my now trembling hands, knowing that in a matter of minutes, everything would come crashing down. It was only one of two things when I would return from my run: echoing screams or a completely chilling silence. I don’t know which one was worse.

It was easier for me back then to run away from all life's problems; with the simple movement of my feet, I was gone with the wind just for a brief moment in time. All until I didn't have that simple movement anymore. The pleasure of being able to escape. It all happened when I got home from a run; it was pouring down with rain. I opened the front door, drenched from head to toe. I was met by my father leaning over me; I could smell the reeking of booze on his breath as he mumbled, “Boy, where have you been?”. Before I could even answer, his fists were wrapped up in the neck of my hoodie. He pulled me into the car and drove recklessly through the steep mountainside; I blocked out his screams as panic took over me. That is the last thing I remembered until waking up and being strolled through the hospital. My eyes were a blur, the lights of the corridor ceiling flashing brightly as we passed each one. A nurse looked over at me, shouting, “He is awake!”. Then I slipped into a dreadful darkness. My eyes shut, and I could hear the voice of my mum crying out. I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I woke once again from the massive thud of thunder. Agonizing pain ran through my body, well, at least most of my body; I had no feeling in my legs.

A few months went by, and I became despondent. There was little hope of me being able to walk again. Mum and Elliot would visit me every day during my long hours of physiotherapy. Dad left after the crash, and we never heard from him again. I was eventually sent home. Mum, by now, had cleaned up the place quite nicely; it looked different. The kitchen was clutterless, the walls had a fresh coat of paint, and the old stained couch was no longer there. I know those months were hard on Mum, with Dad being gone and me being in the hospital. Although that is true, it’s wonderful to see her radiant smile that has been gone for what feels like a lifetime. It turns out things can change, but sometimes in the most unexpected way.

It’s been five years since the accident; oh how time passes. Some nights I lie awake with my eyes shut, and I see myself running still. I fantasize about those long runs and the freedom I felt. The fresh breeze blowing through my hair, the adrenaline rushing through my very being but now my legs are stuck, frozen in time, in a wheelchair I now sit. The taunting memory runs through my mind and creeps up on me in moments of trying to search for happiness. I was not going to let this define me, even though that is easier said than done. In the last few years, there was no possibility of running away from my problems but facing them head-on.

Elliot has grown up so much; he is now 7. Every day at dusk, he pushes me out to the front yard. We sit for a moment and watch the picturesque sunset, the birds flapping their wings in delight as they play in the pond. Each day we sit out, and he tells me about his day at school; he asks me for advice on running. He is part of the school's athletic team and has excelled in it. Every time he wins a medal, he dashes through the door, smiling ear to ear and just so thrilled to show me. I see a lot of myself in him. He couldn’t make me any prouder. Mum is now the manager at Rockwell Cafe; she has come a long way from serving tables. She is happier than ever and has been my rock these last few years.

As for me, well, I began sharing my story after the crash, and I now do online seminars to help guide and coach those through their disabilities. I strive to teach others that we can’t run from our problems and that we have to face them eventually. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and although this all sounds cliche, there is so much truth to it. I am so grateful to have a community to share my story with and that can share theirs with me. I still think about Dad; I hope wherever he is he is doing alright. Maybe one day I will see him again.

My family is blossoming, and so am I. I live by this quote that says, “The greatest discovery of all time is that a person can change his future by merely changing his attitude”. My life didn’t stop when I ended up in a wheelchair; it began.