Milky Three Wheeler
I'll be ten next week. Happy Birthday?
I'll always remember when our third grade teacher asked us to take an event that made us feel worried, excited, happy or upset. "Write a page and see where we get."
Being known as Milky Three Wheeler for so long made my first decision quite easy; at least I thought that at the time. I chose upset.
The other kids called me Milky because of my pigment. I had an illness. It wasn't by choice, but that's not why I was upset.
The other kids also called me three wheeler because of my wheel chair, but that's not why I was upset.
My dad thought it would be nice to get me a sporty one since I was confined to it for the rest of my life, but that's not why I was upset.
My doctor told my dad I'd only make it to my tenth birthday. That's not why either, but that's why my dad was upset.
My doctor, cold hands, cold stethoscope, grizzly beard against my bare neck, trees outside the window, that's where I wish I could run. The doctor was nice but he couldn't make my legs work like the kids who named me Milky.
I remember dad pushing me along in our favorite park, big trees, flowers, a running stream, sun shine from above. Nature is magnificent.
A bicyclist rode too close to a jogger. The jogger yelled words I probably shouldn't have heard. The cyclist hollered back, and then a push, a punch, a kick, a wooden stick. Curses, blood, tears, anger, a thud. That's why I was upset. Now I'm ascared of adults.
Imagine if I knew what they were really capable of, WWI, Nazi Germany, Concentration Camps, WWII, Korea, Nam, Iraq, Iran, The KKK, Libya, Son of Sam, 9/11, Terrorism, Religious fanatics, Racial hatred, Guns, Gangs, drug Lords, crime, Columbine, VA Tech, what the heck?
After watching the jogger and the cyclist, I guess that's what the world's supposed to do. Then the world is not for me, that's why I'm not upset about leaving when I'm ten.
If they can't teach us, can we at least teach them? Don't they know we're all in this together?