Ripples In The Water


Photo: Bibin Tom (Tulabi Falls, Manitoba)


The dream took almost a decade to fulfill.

And there it was. Reality.

She could scarcely believe it.

First there were the logistics to overcome: savings to secure, the children to raise beyond immediate dependency, paperwork and releases to organize, complicated details to ensure such international travel would even be possible.

Then there was the soulmate to find. Or rather, to have find her.

She looked around. At the deep calm. The ripples in the water. She’d pinch herself, onlyΒ  it would rock the boat and she had no intention to fall out. Not when it had taken so long to get in.

“You’ll have to adjust,” they’d told her.

“Some things you just won’t be able to do,” they’d said.

Well … stubbornness had gotten her through the accident. It got her through years of being a wheelchair-bound single parent.

It got her back into a canoe.

With Hugh.




For What Pegman Saw: Manitoba, Canada


50 thoughts on “Ripples In The Water

  1. Aw, that really pulled at my heartstrings and had me rooting for her. And so happy for her happy ending. (I sure hope this Hugh fella is a keeper.) What a great lesson: don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Never saw the ending coming – and love how you led us to the disability – because when I got halfway through to the boat part – I was thinking metaphor (don’t rock the boat) and Hugh sounds like he was worth the wait!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Now that’s a true happy ending! Not “And they both lived happily ever after,” but “And they both had the determination, persistence and empathy to enjoy as much happiness as any human being can realistically expect.” And I love your shout for those who need wheelchairs – except in a canoe, of course!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Penny! Most happy endings are continuations of a happy beginning and the choice to work at maintaining it, day to day and hour by hour and interaction by interaction, eh? As for the wheelchair bound people – it amazes me how many people seem to think they are less capable (or even less brilliant) than those who walk on their own two legs. And I often feel deep respect for the problem-solving and tenacity of living in a world that is not built for wheel-chairs and yet, so many in it need them and manage anyway. As for the canoe … yeah, getting in might take some help, let alone if one falls out … So she won’t. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I especially liked the voices of the naysayers, trying to dampen, so to speak, her expectations of what life should be like.

    This rang true to me. These past few weeks it has been my privilege to watch someone dear to me come back from a most dire prognosis, and that, for the second time in a single lifetime.

    I have also heard similar voices throughout my parenting years regarding my son with autism.

    Kudos to your character, for disregarding people who, despite their expert status, haven’t got a clue what she’s capable of!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, there is a line between providing information and dealing a sentence …
      While it is important to accept reality (i.e. that life has changed, that adaptations might need to be made, temporarily or not, to how some things are done, that the are things one may need to re-learn how to do to match a new reality), this does not mean one should accept an inability. People are different. Healing is fluid. Physical difference do not denote handicap (or level of it).
      As a clinician, I am constantly telling parents (and children) that I don’t know how far they’d be able to progress and that I don’t place the bar anyplace – we’ll continue to work and we’ll continue to create change and then we’ll see where every person settles as their ‘good enough for now’ place (which in of itself might change over time). I’ve seen children be capable of a lot more than what some experts told their parents they’d ever manage to accomplish. I’ve seen people recover from terrible accidents. I’ve seen people create a fulfilling life with abilities that changed markedly from what they’d been able to do easily before.
      Life and wellness and relationships and dreams and joy, need not be clipped.
      I am glad that the woman in my little story was able to show how she’d made hers.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you. I think life informs my writing, and the kids and families I’ve worked with, and the people I’ve met and the experiences I’ve had – personally and professionally. They all help inform me in my writing. That said, the people I work with are the real experts on their own lives. I can offer insight, suggestions, direction, support, but it is teamwork. With the youngest. With the older. I’m sure we all bring some insight into our writing — the sum of our lives, knowledge, experiences, curiosity, hope.

        Liked by 1 person

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