Shine

Shiny New Human

(Sapphire36, this looked like it -might- be up your alley, so I thought I'd say hello with it! You are appreciated.)

It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day. – Terence, This is Stupid Stuff – A. E. Housman

People somehow consistently find reason to be astonished that I'm so happy to be alive. What, should the fact that I'm dying mean I should enjoy life less? Tosh.

That was why Aunt Clara and I moved to Forks, because it is closer to the big hospital in Sequim than Edmonds is, though not hugely. But we were tired of the drive from Edmonds, and didn't care for Port Angeles—being small town girls—so Forks, being the next small city along the highway, is where we lost our momentum and settled.

"Sorry I can't help more," I said, popping a wheelie over the threshold of our new old house with a box of dish towels balanced on my lap. "Sorta. I like being in charge of the radio."

Aunt Clara held the door for me with a box of bath towels in the other arm. "I'll never admit how much I like that radio—it's convenient, being able to control it from you i-thingy."

"You just don't want to like it because then I'll guilt you into reimbursing me for half." I dumped my box onto the table, punched out the bottom to flatten it, then tucked it between the chairs under the table. "Want me to try to organize, or get stuff from the car, or...."

She propped a fist on her hip. "I dunno. How about you ferry whatever you can manage and I'll just move stuff from the back of the truck to the front when it gets out of your reach? I'll keep the kitchen clear so you can drop stuff here."

I'd only been in a wheelchair for a couple of months—long enough to become effective, but too short to be a true proficient—so our uncertainty was warranted. We'd found a place less than half a mile outside of what represented Forks's downtown though, and the roads were all decently paved between here and there, so that was a plus. The only places right in town had either been too tight or had too many stairs. This one was a one-story, two-bedroom, one-bathroom, kitchen and living room deal. Perfect for us. And Aunt Clara has a deft hand with a paint brush and a putty knife, so even if it's a bit drab now she'll be able resell it for a profit in a few years or whenever my traitorous bone cells catch up with me.

"Best get your plants in your room first!" Aunt Clara called after I'd backed out of the now-propped front door again. It was early spring, so still cold-ish, and house plants are house plants for a reason.

"Got it!" I shouted back, and cruised down to the car, swinging the back door of her car open, and easing the first pots out of the towels we'd used to prop them up and prevent partying on sharp turns. Since I could still move my legs I crammed two of the smaller pots between them and rolled back toward the front door. "Can you take them from me? I don't want to toss any dirt."

"Yeah let's not." She hustled back from where she was opening and closing cabinets in search of homes for plates and bowls, and took a pot in each hand.

Several hours later we were glad we'd decided to leave ungodly early the day before to get here reasonably early in the morning, so we could get virtually all of the unpacking done from the truck and return it the next morning. By 'return' we mean call the guy we paid to drive out here with us, since I don't drive, and have him take it straight back. He'd offered to help us unload but he'd been willing to get up at four in the morning for us, so Aunt Clara had cut him a break and paid his tab at the bar (since he'd also agreed to do the driving at a discount) and gotten him a motel.