When It Happens, It Happens

By Mark E. Smith

The concrete of the sidewalk feeds under my power wheelchair like a conveyor belt of cold gray slab at eight miles per hour – but, it seems much faster. It is much faster. Everything is scaled down – my wheelchair, the narrow path, me. Buildings and homes loom large – gigantic, leaning creatures, casting intimidating shadows. But, I know by the ever-increasing cadence of the sidewalk expansion joints clicking against my wheels that I’m going faster, and faster, and faster, where the shadows can’t hold on to me for long. The clicks from my wheels go from countable to one loud vibration, and all that lines the sidewalk becomes a blur, the colors of buildings and homes streaking along my periphery like paint on an abstract canvas. It’s all noise and color, color and noise, noise and color, color and noise. And, it’s at that moment – always at that moment! – that my wheels leave the ground, and I rocket into the sky, headed into the scattering of clouds, and the rest… well… it just stops.


Author: Mark E. Smith

The literary side of the WheelchairJunkie

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: