Summer was almost over and I just had my cast removed. To celebrate, my mom took us to the park so I could release the built up energy and get some much needed exercise. We took my wheelchair to the park, because it was a long walk from the parking lot to the playground. I was often too exhausted to make the trek back to the car after a long day of playing and since my three year old sister also needed to be carried, pushing her in my wheelchair and carrying me, because I was smaller made it easier for my mom to manage both of us.
"Be careful with your leg," she warned as my brother helped me up the slide.
"I got her mom," my brother reassured.
As I climbed cautiously up the ladder, he followed behind. My brother waited till I was situated at the top.
"Okay, wait for me," he said, and jumped down.
"Use the ladder!" our mom scolded. Sometimes it was hard for her to remember that he was not fragile.
My brother ran to the front of the slide, ignoring her rebuke.
"OK, sis, go!," he shouted, and I let my self slide down the long tin slide. The summer sun heated the slide, and I had to bend my knees to keep the hot tin from burning the back of my legs. My brother caught me at the bottom. We did this two more times, taking turns with our little sister.
"Let's go on the merry-go-round," I suggested.
I hopped in my wheelchair and my brother pushed me over to it. The merry-go-round was a large circular platform with multiple crisscrossing bars for children to hold on to. During the early hours the park was full of children, and the merry-go-round often exceeded it's maximum capacity for youngsters. They would spin each other as fast as possible until some of the children fell off or jumped. Then others would take their place. I was not allowed (nor did I have the desire) to play such a dangerous game.
At the moment however, the merry-go-round belonged only to three children. My sister and I sat with our feet facing outwards, holding on to the closest bars, my arm around her waist, while our brother worked up the fastest spin he could by pushing the merry-go-round in multiple 360 degree rotations. When he was satisfied with the momentum, he hopped on to enjoy the spinning, until it slowed to an inevitable stop.
As he sat on the platform resting before his next spin, my brother focused on my wheelchair in front of him.
"I wonder if we could take your wheelchair down the slide," he said, "We should test stuff with your chair so that next time you break your leg, you don't have to stay home."
He got up and brought my wheelchair over to the merry-go-round. Our mother was a good distance away at the picnic tables, making our lunch and talking to one of her friends. My brother got the wheelchair on the platform.
"Do you want me to sit in it?" I asked.
"No, you're too brittle," my brother said. "Better let me test it and see if it's safe. Y'all push me and see if it spins." he instructed.
My sister and I gave it our best effort, but we weren't very good at getting the merry-go-round to move halfway through a rotation without feeling tired or falling down. My brother got out of the chair and made us stand back while he pushed the platform all the way around. He forgot to set the brakes and my wheelchair rolled off and fell into the gravel. Fortunately our mom only heard what happened when she looked in our direction.
"Why is her chair tipped over? Stop playing with it, it's not a toy," she scolded and went back to her conversation.
"Well that's not safe," my brother declared, lifting the wheelchair upright. We made our way over to the swings and as we passed the see-saw I looked at my brother hopefully, but only shook his head, "Bad idea sis," and we laughed at the idea of me catapulting someone across the park.
My brother tried to wrap the chains of two swings around the wheelchair's handlebars, but with no success.
"I'm gonna have to bring some rope next time and make you a new wheelchair swing," he promised. "Okay, time to test the slide." We took the wheelchair over to the tallest tin slide on the playground.
The slide was barely wide enough for my wheelchair to fit on. My brother put it on the bottom of the slide, facing forward.
"This is just like a wheelchair ramp, so it should work." He assumed.
"How would I get on?" I asked.
"You would be in it here, then I would push you up backwards and set the brake. Then soon as I slide down you can take the brake off and just let yourself roll down and I'll catch you," he explained. "I'm gonna show you," and he started pushing the chair up the slide backward.
As soon as the wheelchair was at the top, my brother locked the brakes, then carefully turned around and attempted to sit in the seat. The wheelchair tipped forward and began to slide. The tires pressed hard against the sides of the slide and about halfway down the chair tilted sideways. My brother jumped and he and the wheelchair crashed to the ground.
"Well, that's not gonna work," my brother said, dusting himself off and putting my wheelchair upright. "Sorry sis, but you're just gonna have to stop breaking bones if you want to play at the park."
No comments:
Post a Comment