I wheeled a young man to the nurse for a breathing treatment. I helped fill the medicine cup and worked to keep the mask on his face the whole time as he let his head flop around and grabbed at the mask to rip it off. He laughed half the time, while the other half he smacked his lips at me in frustration at having to keep the dang thing on for so long. As I stand there for half an hour entertaining him, my heart soaring every time he laughs, I reflect.

I realize I am fortunate to be disabled in areas where READING is the only accommodation I need to reach my full potential. I can open up a book, google an article, read a wiki, and I am enabled.

I don’t need a special device to read for me, or a specially printed version of a book. I don’t need a wheelchair to get around, or a person to feed me, bathe me, and help me dress. There are no special exercises, no repetitive therapies, no support groups I have to attend. I am privileged.

He is content to be talked to. Life is in the small moments.