Starts with
a Single Step
You can do it, baby.
Come on.
Sandra smiled her encouragement as her daughter hauled
herself to her feet. Clinging to the bars Terri put one tentative leg in front
of the other. Her confidence had grown over the past few weeks until it seemed
inevitable that she would finally strike out by herself. So convinced was
Sandra that today was to be the day that she had persuaded her husband to take
a day's leave to be there. She had to do it today; she had to. They had been
waiting months for this.
Her daughter glanced across at her, blue eyes doubtful. She
had never been the adventurous type and letting go of that support was going to
be a big adventure.
David squeezed Sandra's hand. "You can do it,
Terri. Let go."
Their daughter released the bar, standing alone: scared yet
triumphant. She wobbled, regaining her balance, the pink tip of her tongue
sticking out as she concentrated.
"Come to me, baby," said Sandra. "Mum's here.
I'll catch you if you need me." I'll
always catch you.
Terri watched her legs as they moved. One hesitant step.
Then another. Terri looked up at her parents, tears glittering in her eyes.
Sandra could feel her own tears begin to fall; she was so proud of her
daughter. Others had learned to do this – many others – but it felt as though Terri
was the very first. She raised her phone in trembling hands, capturing the
moment to share with family and friends who would miss this momentous occasion.
"Wave to grandma, honey."
Terri waved cautiously, the slight movement threatening to
bring her crashing down in a tangle of arms and legs. The nurse was at her side
right away and Terri clung to her arm, confidence shaken.
"I think that's enough for one day, don't you? These
legs are going to take you time to get used to and we don't want to overtire you."
Sandra nodded, relieved. The bastards that had detonated the
bomb in the shopping centre would not win.
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