The change wasn’t too much. But it was there. And could not be too easily overlooked by me or anyone in my shoes. And by that I mean anyone. I over watered my neighbors’ lawn for the fifth time since I started. Third time after the accident.
The first two times, it was a mistake I’d been scolded for. First by the owner-a 40 year old man who looked too old for his age-and then by my parents because he’d probably called them. The third time, it was a mistake. I’d forced myself to face him and tell him I wasn’t alright so I wasn’t going to do the job no matter how much he stopped me.
But what he said left me wide eyed...in fact, it led me to having second thoughts about leaving.
It’s okay son. We all make mistakes. Besides, it’s quite hot already. It’ll dry up in no time.
I didn’t know what had gotten into him and to test his newly born self-control, I changed my plans and transformed the lawn into a swimming pool once more.
Only to meet the same but surprisingly gently response.
Today, I tried it again. And this time, the response was somewhat different, somewhat…terrible. The kind that stabs you. He didn’t ‘say’ anything different though. There was just something I saw in his eyes. The sadness in them or...let’s put it this way. Pity for the disability of his 18 year old neighbor. Quite a young age for not being able to walk again, now isn't it?
I didn’t say a word. Just went home quietly. This was the first time I felt like not doing anything wrong. In fact, not even seeing anyone again. Because instead of getting scolded, I would always get reminded of the fact that I’m stuck up in a wheelchair with all those stares and smiles: something I'm sick of.
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