IN MY DREAMS

In my dreams, I am running or riding a horse, speeding over the prairie of my childhood. In reality, I walk slowly, using a wheelchair for trips over half a block.

In my dreams, I am traveling to see my family for the holidays. In reality, travel is very difficult for me, especially in the snow or rain.

Like a blind person, I have carefully set up my life so that I can do the maximum number of things without anyone else noticing there is something wrong. As my arthritis gets worse, I quietly mourn each loss of freedom of movement.

But the worse thing about all this is the difficulty of travel. A phone call is not the same as a hug. Slowly, the friends and family who live far away become strangers.

I tell myself that it could be worse. And it could be. My disease could prevent me from doing anything, or I could live in an underdeveloped country where I would not be able to have a wheelchair and a wheelchair van.

And I do have friends and family. I do my best to celebrate the joy rather than mourn the things I used to be able to do.