The Perks Of Having A Wheelchair

  When I was younger, my manual wheelchair was a multi-purpose object. I used it for a step stool, a way to carry laundry to and from my room and sometimes I toted toys in and out of the house whenever I wanted to play outside.

  One day my siblings and I decided to go around the block to a friend's house. As always, I pushed the supplies (a box full of video games, barbie dolls and snacks) in my wheelchair, while my brother and sister walked behind and beside me.

"Guys, I need to sit down," I said to my siblings.

  The walks around the neighborhood often wore me out, so we parked my wheelchair on the curb and dug into the box to retrieve our sodas and cookies. After we finished them,

"Uh-oh," I said, "I have to use the bathroom."

"Do you think you can make it to our friend's house?" my brother asked.

"I don't know," I said, standing up. I could feel the pressure on my bladder and I knew that I'd have to go soon.

"Maybe you can knock on the neighbor's door," my sister pointed at the house in front of us.

  I wasn't too keen on the idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I ran ahead of my siblings to the front door and knocked. My tiny hands were never good at making noise and I was too short to reach the doorbell. Luckily, my brother ran up behind me, leaving our sister in the driveway with my wheelchair. He rang the doorbell. Still, no answer.

"Let's try another house," my brother suggested.

  We ran next door, our sister pushing the wheelchair behind us. Again we rang and knocked, but there was still no response.

"I don't think anyone is home anywhere," I said, noting the next three empty drive-ways. I felt a little ridiculous knocking on so many doors.

"Get in your wheelchair and I'll push you," my brother said.

"What about our stuff?" I asked.

"Can you carry it?" he asked our sister.

"No," she said.

"Wait here with it then," he told her.

"Don't leave me here!" my sister insisted.

"We can't leave her by herself," I told my brother. I thought for a moment. "Let's hide the box in the neighbor's bush then come back and get it."

  Our friend lived just one street over from where we were. My brother took the box and hid it in the bushes in front of the neighbor's window. I got in my wheelchair and he pushed me as swiftly as he could, with our sister running behind us. We made it to our friend's house just in time.

"Where is your stuff?" our friend asked.

"We had to hide it so it wouldn't get stolen," my brother said. "You girls stay and we'll go get it. Can I borrow your wheelchair, sis?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

  It took awhile, but when they returned, my brother and our friend were laughing hysterically.

"What happened?" I asked them eagerly.

"When we went to get the stuff, there was a car in the driveway," my brother said. "I thought we'd get in trouble sneaking up to their window."

"So I got in your wheelchair and your brother pushed me up to the front door," our friend said. "He rang the bell and told the lady who answered that someone took my toys and we thought they hid them in her yard. She obviously felt sorry for me, because of the wheelchair, so she let us 'look' and we 'found' them!"

  The both started laughing again. My sister and I joined in.

"You're lucky," our friend said to me, when we'd calm down. "If I were in a wheelchair, I'd never get in trouble."

  My siblings and I looked at each other, and started laughing even harder.