A few weeks ago marked the one year anniversary of us moving into our current house. We made the move for Zoe, so she could have better ground floor living space (not knowing that we would need even more room for her baby sister, who also marked her own one-year anniversary recently). Zoe wound up with the biggest room of all the kids, and as time and budget will allow, we will continue to enhance her space, making things more accessible for her long-term care. Aside from the house itself, we have enjoyed the benefits of being in a part of the neighborhood populated by more kids, right next to the elementary school. Zoe's older sister walks the one block to school, and all the kids enjoy the proximity to the school playground. Zoe has one of the least efficient commutes imaginable; her service plan mandates bus transport, which takes her five blocks out of the way to get to the school's front door, even though the school is visible from our own front door. As drawbacks go, we can live with that pretty easily.
A week or so ago brought the last snowfall of the winter. For reasons I can't recall, Zoe was not ready when her bus came. My wife walked Zoe down to school in her wheelchair a little after the first bell rang. I wound up having to follow them an hour later with the wheelchair mount for her Tobii or some other forgotten piece of equipment. I happened upon their trail in the snow, still clear despite additional accumulation. Her siblings and friends routinely leave their boot prints in the snow, out playing or just wandering the neighborhood. Given the assistance she needs for those activities, and her general disdain for the cold, Zoe doesn't get the chance to leave her own mark. These tiretracks were like some odd archaeological find, unique enough to move me, even though I knew their creator so well. I loved knowing that no other kid in the neighborhood (for good or bad) left behind the same kind of trail as my Zoe.
A week or so ago brought the last snowfall of the winter. For reasons I can't recall, Zoe was not ready when her bus came. My wife walked Zoe down to school in her wheelchair a little after the first bell rang. I wound up having to follow them an hour later with the wheelchair mount for her Tobii or some other forgotten piece of equipment. I happened upon their trail in the snow, still clear despite additional accumulation. Her siblings and friends routinely leave their boot prints in the snow, out playing or just wandering the neighborhood. Given the assistance she needs for those activities, and her general disdain for the cold, Zoe doesn't get the chance to leave her own mark. These tiretracks were like some odd archaeological find, unique enough to move me, even though I knew their creator so well. I loved knowing that no other kid in the neighborhood (for good or bad) left behind the same kind of trail as my Zoe.
