This article/poem was written three years ago after my 20 year high school reunion. The name in the artcle/poem is fictitious.
The Reunion
by
Cheryl Raye
I wonder if I will recognize anyone?
I wonder if anyone will recognize
me? I have been becoming handicapped
since I was 17.
A man of 60ish walked to the podium.
"Welcome to the 20-year high school
reunion. I hope you have fun. Feel
free to venture bach to yesteryear-back
to when you were 17."
I'll stay here-thank you very much. I like
my age now. I do not want to be 17,
again. I couldn't even stand to be
17 when I was 17: I was so skinny
and unsure of myself. I do not want
to be at the beginning of my Cerebellar
Ataxia, again-I can NOT go through
accepting the fact that I am becoming
handicapped, again. That would be
torture. Besides, I just want to see
people I knew in high school and see how
they progressed.
I felt a prescence beside me. "Do you
remember me?"
I looked up into his face. "I'm sorry, but
I don't."
"I'm Tim Butler."
His face of 20 years ago popped into
my mind. "Oh, my God, now I remember
you!"
I backed up my wheelchair so that I was
beside him. Small talk and reminiscing
warmed my heart and blew my mind.
"Well, I should be going now. Bye."
Dinner was served: a small repast, but
at least I didn't have to cook it. And,
best of all, no dirty dishes to clean.
After the plates were cleared, a familiar
man walked toward me: my high school
boyfriend-my ex-fiance. His eyes reminded
me of a carefree life-before my genetic
handicap began. Such a pleasant surprise; such
a warm handshake.
He sat beside me and I floated deep
into a conversation with him. We
didn't talk of the good-old-days, but
of today.
When he had to return to his table
I felt sad and glad: I was happy to
learn that his life had turned out the
way that he had dreamed of.
Later, a woman outside the bathroom
asked, "What happened?" (referring
to my use of a wheelchair.)
For the first time, without a whine in my
voice, I answered, "I have a genetic,
progressive handicap that began 20 years
ago."