And which version of strength I wanted to carry into the years I still had.
Daniel placed a hand on my shoulder.
“You ready?”
I looked through the auditorium doors.
Vanessa had saved two seats in the front row.
Maria and Sophie sat nearby.
Rachel was arguing cheerfully with Mark about the event schedule.
People who had once stood on different sides of a courtroom were now gathered in the same room for something better.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Daniel began pushing my wheelchair forward.
Then I stopped him.
“What?”
“I can manage.”
He released the handles immediately.
No argument.
No wounded expression.
Just trust.
I moved the chair forward myself.
Slowly.
Not perfectly.
But under my own direction.
And Daniel walked beside me.
Not behind.
Not ahead.
Beside.
That, I finally understood, was what I had been fighting for all along.
Not the right to need no one.
The right to decide how I would be helped.
