“She says I should learn to walk without it.”
The words landed differently this time.
My daughter was not refusing to walk. She was trying to move with a brace around one leg. The walker was not a luxury. It was the thing that gave her enough stability to get from one place to another without falling.
I looked at her stepmother.
“You took it because you wanted her to walk without it?”
“She relies on it too much.”
“Her doctor gave it to her.”
“She needs to get stronger.”
I did not argue about medicine. I did not pretend to know more than the people treating my daughter. I simply looked at the woman who had made a decision about my daughter’s mobility whenever I was out of the room.
Then my daughter tried to move.
She pushed herself upright with both hands on the walker. Her braced leg barely bent. She shifted her weight carefully, testing the floor before taking one small step.
