When tragedy strikes, it knocks you off your feet and sometimes paralyses you so that you will never rise again. It leaves you out of breath, numb and so scared that you can’t even remember how you got where it flung you. And as if you never happened it whirls by in search of its next victim.
You are left in a daze, in the middle of nowhere turning in a gyre of agony and confusion. You say to yourself that you are not someone who gets knocked down, whose life is turned upside down, who is lost in the middle of nowhere with no compass or light to find your way to yourself. It’s supposed to happen to someone else, someone without a face or name. Someone other than you. It has happened, that’s the truth.
When I was hit by a truck that took my leg and damaged my pelvis, it took me a while to accept the truth. That I was the same person who left home that morning, the same person who had made so many plans the previous day, or the month before.
Sometimes, it still feels like a dream or another lifetime, that I would just get up and walk without grabbing my walker, or crutches or buckle my leg on before walking. But it’s true, it’s not a dream and I’m not dead. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy because it’s not. Or that you will get over it, I haven’t.
You just have to do what I always do, grab those crutches or walker, fasten your leg and keep moving. I always do that to remind myself, that as long as I’m still here, as long as I can move, I can get wherever I want. I can be me because I’m still me, just one leg short. Whenever I am down, I’d move. I get up, walk and breathe in some fresh air.
Keep moving…..one small step at a time.
Submitter Name: Olufunke Kolapo