Putting on your shoes, reaching over the bed, damn, it’s a long way down there, putting on your shoes, what a dream. How simple a thought how impossible the dream, he looks at the shoes, the day is an anniversary. Twelve months since the accident, it seems like yesterday. The waiting is the worst part. He pulled the bell ten minutes earlier, still no response. It’s a busy unit. He stares at the shoes, thinking all the time, the petty issues we worry over, nothing really. The soup is cold, does it matter, the meat is over cooked, was the chef drinking again, the wry comments. He left the restaurant, his memory is fuzzy, it’s never the same after a great trauma. He tries to recall the events, but it gets to the point when it goes blank. He was three days in a coma.
The door opens, she opens her mouth, a cheery sound escapes. Ready for the day, any plans she says. He looks at the shoes, she catches his gaze, knows what he is thinking. One day, they are making great strides medically she says. Nineteen years of age, unable to move from the chest down, and you think it’s tough he says, thinking to himself.
Solomon sighed; there is a Spirit you can ignite inside you, but it requires effort, a step in the dark, but you have to trust. What was it Jesus said; you have to have faith, that’s where the power of Spirit lies. Once you did, you could ask for anything. Imagine the wonder, the feelings in the feet, pins and needles feeling, a grief to some, the greatest of reliefs to others.