For the record: no matter how you use your mobility aid, it’s beautiful
if you’re just getting used to the controls of your wheelchair, your confusion is beautiful
if you’re struggling to roll your wheelchair up a hill, your sweat is beautiful
if you need someone to push you in your wheelchair, your friendship is beautiful
if you can barely support yourself on your walker, your white knuckles are beautiful
if you’ve worn the pads of your walker down to the metal, the scraping sound is beautiful
if your crutches are hurting you, your bruises are beautiful
if you don’t have “real” cushioning, your sweat-soaked towels are beautiful
if you use forearm crutches, the imprints on your upper arms are beautiful
if you swing on them, your loping gait is beautiful
if you’ve gone too far, your ache is beautiful and your tears are beautiful
if you think today is the first day you can try a cane, your ambition is beautiful
if you were wrong about that, your rest is beautiful, your labored panting is beautiful
if you could use your cane, your lean is beautiful
if your cane isn’t the exact right size, your limp is beautiful
if you misstep, your stumble is beautiful
if you don’t need your cane to walk anymore but you’re scared of a misstep or a trip, your caution is beautiful
If you used to need a mobility aid but you don’t any more, your recovery is beautiful
if you know you’ll need to use one again later, your regression is beautiful
your mobility aid is beautiful
if you don’t have enough energy to use mobility aids, you are beautiful
if you can’t make it down your staircase on a good day, you are beautiful
if you need to be told you are beautiful because the world says otherwise,
