Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Tears in a Bowl of Cereal

I feel like I owe my wonderful readers an update, but my life has been consumed by schoolwork lately and I just don't have time to gather my thoughts enough to write something coherent! Today was just one of those days where my alarm clock went off at 7:12 and I laid in bed wondering if there was a way to pause time so I could go back to sleep....sigh.

And then, on the way to class, my foot caught a rough patch on the pavement and down I went, heavy backpack and all. I pulled myself up and continued on my way...luckily I just got a little bit of a scraped elbow...I was bitter about it for a moment, but then I just thought about what I've been through, about what could have happened, and by the time I sat down for class, I was grateful. Because I remembered. I remembered what it was like to fall and to be unable to get back up...

{stream of consciousness post today}

 When I was fourteen years old I cried over a bowl of cereal.
Had a stranger walked into the room at that moment,
perhaps he would have judged me...
but he wouldn't have known about my broken leg 
that was so much more than a broken leg.
It was a broken leg that threatened to steal away my independence,
a broken leg that turned every step into a mountain climb
of pain and tears and I don't know if I can do this...
a broken leg that became, "you might never walk independently again."
Fifteen minutes.
It took fifteen minutes to carry that bowl across the kitchen,
hands shaking and droplets of milk spilling onto the floor,
legs threatening to give out,
and maybe if a stranger had walked into the room,
he would have laughed,
laughed at the fourteen-year-old girl and her shaking bowl of cereal.

But to me, it was so much more than that,
so much more than a shaking bowl of cereal.
It was proof,
proof that maybe, just maybe,
I could transcend my cerebral palsy,
and maybe everything wouldn't be fixed,
but I could live with the brokenness,
the beautiful brokenness
that ended with a fourteen-year-old girl
crying tears of joy
over a bowl of cereal.


  1. That's an amazing story, and I am constantly amazed by the way you're able to give yourself a mental shake-down, get things back into your perspective, and carry on, KNOWING that really, you're doing alright - you got this.

    Your physical trials are harder, forsure, but perhaps your triumphs are accordingly greater. I think so, anyway.

    Did you ever hear of Jean-Dominique Bauby? He authored a book 'The Diving Bell and The Butterfly', explaining and talking through his life. And all done with blinks of one eyelid. Absolutely MONUMENTAL stuff. And yet, as with your bowl of cereal, to an outsider, they'd just see a chap in bed, winking...

  2. Yowza! A very moving "stream of consciousness". I love your perspective.

  3. Wow. As the mom of 17yo with CP, that just brought me to tears. Brielle is so unaware of her limitations. Maybe that's a blessing. Reading your posts always gives me hope. Despite everything, you get up and transcend not only CP, but life. :)

  4. Kerry,
    As always, your writing is awe-inspiring, goose-bump giving, and absolutely beautiful. I love your determination, stream-of-consciousness and that you get back up. Every time.
    I hope you get some much-needed rest this weekend, dear friend.

  5. The "small" victories that feel, in no way, small... <3


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