It was spring and the plants had sprouted. Flowers were in full bloom painting the usually dull streets of Cleveland into a luminous city full of life. I sat up in bed shielding away the sun-rays that had crept up on the twinkling stars of the night and slipped through the gaps in my curtains. I smiled to myself and looked across my room. My eyes were drawn to the wheelchair that sat next to my bed where I had left it last night. My smile slowly faded and I felt my whole body sag. I only have one leg. My other leg stopped at my knee. I took a shaky breath then let it out and used my arms to pull myself into the wheelchair. I rolled over to the mirror and looked at my reflection. I have my mom's black hair and my dad's blue eyes. My skin was white but not pale and has a healthy glow to it. My gaze went down and I stare at my missing leg. I looked back up at my face and give myself a reassuring smile. I always feel different. Feel like I wasn't a part of things outside my home. I don't have any friends. And people are always afraid, like they might say something that will offend me so they usually stay away. So, I pretend that I don't have a wheelchair, I pretend that I'm just like everyone else.
That's why I go to the garden everyday and watch from my secret spot behind the plants. I see everyone planting, everyone watering, everyone doing the same thing. Everyone else is normal, except me. I want to plant too but I feel so small, so alone. It feels like if I disappeared right now no one would care. No one would notice. At every school I'm the only one in a wheelchair. I'm the only one who has to take an elevator every where, who needs a special kind of bus to go on field trips. I'm the only one different. I squeezed my eyes shut, shook those feelings off and tipped up my chin.
The aroma of pancakes and bacon caught my attention and my awareness spiked. My mouth drooled and I rolled at top speed down the ramp my father had built for me and into the kitchen. My mom was up in her “Mother's, even when they're wrong.... they're right!” t­shirt and loose grandma pants. Yeah, that was my mom. She's pretty awesome. Her black hair was tied up in a messy bun and at the moment was bobbing up and down because she was dancing to the radio. What was truly making my eyes bulge into bowling balls was my father who was already at the table and inhaling the stack of my buttermilk pancakes. My buttermilk pancakes.
“Stop!” I screeched, and snatched the plate away from my dad who was already reaching for another one. I scowled at my father who glared at me for taking away the pancakes. My mom by this time had finally stopped dancing and realized what was happening. We all wanted the pancakes but too bad for them, I had them. It was an old fashioned cowboy showdown. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Don't ask me who the ugly one was.
My mother glanced at my father and they seemed to pass one of those invisible deals that you do under a table in full view of the other players. I started to panic, “No fair! You can't team up!” My mom smirked and my jaw dropped. Who would do this to their own child? It happened so fast I couldn't see it coming. My dad was behind me and held my arms still as my mother rushed forward and snatched the plate away from my lap.
I gasped and sputtered out, “You're going to starve your own child!” I huffed and swiped away some bacon to munch on, while my dad happily sat back down and started inhaling pancakes again. My mom smiled and took away two of my dad's yummy pancakes and gave them to me. I squealed and enjoyed my syrupy breakfast. I loved my family. I felt like I belonged here. I was the same here. I licked away the crumbs on my lips and sat back in my wheelchair satisfied. I glanced at the clock.
“Mom I'm going to the garden ok?” I said already heading for the door.

“Oh wait, wait Christina!” I saw her quickly reach over to the cupboard and grabbed a hand full of watermelon seeds. “Take these and plant me some ok? They're my favorite and before we moved we used to plant them all the time.” I just looked at the seeds in her hand for a moment then nodded and reluctantly took them.
“Bye,”I called. My father grunted some kind of response while he read the newspaper. I rolled out the front door.
The sky was clear and the sun colored the streets in warm fluorescent light. There was a slight breeze that blew my black hair in my face and I quickly tucked it behind my ear. I clutched the seeds in my hands and strolled over to the garden. The garden was my second favorite place besides my house. I loved watching people plant seeds and I delighted in seeing the seeds sprout out of the ground for the first time. The only thing was that I wasn't apart of it.
I watched all of the people sprinkle water over their plants. The water sparkling like tiny jewel droplets in the sun. Other people were planting new seeds with big grins on their faces obviously anticipating the moment when the plants will sprout out of the ground. I frowned and gazed longingly at the garden. If only I could walk. I could be apart of everything too. I could make friends.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind me causing me to jump a bit in my seat. I turned over and saw a white man with glasses standing a few feet away from me. “Did you want to plant something?” He asked motioning towards the garden. At first I debated on whether or not I should answer. I wasn't used to talking to people.
“M-­me?” I asked my voice a little high. He nodded and his gaze slid to the seeds in my hands. “No I don't,” I said shyly. I wasn't used to talking to anybody except for my parents.
“But....” he trailed off gesturing to the seeds in my hands.
“I mean... I... I'm not,” I stammered. “My wheelchair can't fit,” I finally got out.
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “I'm sure we can figure something out,” he said beaming. After all this is place is beyond compare!” He made a big gesture with his hands. “Oh, I'm Jack by the way,” he said holding out his hand. I hesitantly reached up and shook his hand.
“Christina,” I said a little more confidently. Talking to other people wasn't so bad and Jack didn't seem to care about my wheelchair. Besides the fact that he was rambling on and on about something that sounded like world peace.
“I tell ya what,” he said smiling at me. “I'll carry you.” I had been keeping this frozen smile on my face the entire time he was talking and must have dazed a bit because I was sure that I had heard him wrong. No matter how you looked at it carrying a fourteen year old just wasn't a good idea. But I didn't want to admit that I hadn't been listening so I just nodded and said,
“Alright” Jack  bent down and scooped me out of my chair while my eyes grew wide. I let out that girlish scream that I hated.
“W-What are you doing?” I squeaked. I kind of, sort of, have a secret fear of heights. If you tell anyone I'll deny it. I flailed around and finally stopped moving when I realized we were attracting attention from other people in the garden. To them I'm sure it looked like a kidnapping. I finally settled and tried to make myself invisible to them. Which was usually an easy thing to do because people always acted like I was invisible. Jack carried me through the other gardens and brought me over to an unused spot in the lot. He set me down carefully and pulled out two shovels.
“Dig,” he said to me when I had just been sitting there astonished for so long I'm sure he thought I'd dozed off or something. I looked down at the shovel in my hand. Then at the dirt in front of me. I'd never pictured how I'd feel if I'd ever gotten the chance to actually do this. Still a little shocked. Happy, joyful even, but also disappointed. Being here with everyone didn't change anything. I still felt the same. Well it's not like I thought I would magically have two legs when I did this but I thought I'd feel something. I looked over at Jack who had stopped digging and was watching me with an unreadable expression. I frowned.
“Why do you think this place is so great?” I asked. It had been bugging me but even more so now that I felt so disappointed. Jack raised his eyebrows then moved over to sit by me.
“You see this,” he said gesturing to all the other gardeners. “This is beyond compare. It’s a place that created a stable community in which the terrible disease of loneliness was cured. It's a place where people go to fill a need in themselves. And I think most people that have come here for that have found that need fulfilled. We allow our ignorance to prevail upon us and make us think we can survive alone, alone in patches, alone in groups, alone in races, even alone in genders. And yet everyone here is of a different race, different religion, different gender and we are all one whole.”
I didn't want to burst the man's bubble by telling him I knew he had taken that right out of Maya Angelou so I kept my mouth shut and thought about what he said.
I thought being different was a bad thing. Being different meant isolation, being alone. But the only thing that can isolate you from other people is yourself. And as I watched everyone else in the garden. Everyone else planting different things. Using different methods to make their seeds grow. With all they're different colors and tastes yet to be seen or experienced. I couldn't help but feel immense joy that I was apart of all that but different. I was me and I wouldn't do anything to change that.