Bunso

In this photo you are a conqueror. Do you notice how we crowd to you? How we struggle to get into the frame, be included in your light? You are full of possibilities. You are back to being the happy gentle bunso I used to cradle to sleep in the 90s.

We always know you had the potential and the stable temperament to become a military general-your dream before Guillan Barré stole your leg and your confidence. You stopped. We stopped with you, pretended to stop with you. We moved in and about while you stayed in, refusing to be the burden you never wanted to become.

I saw how you deteriorated, how you looked away when I bring up the issue. My callousness showed once. Take music classes and do compositions, I said. That way you don't need to get out of the house. You shut up. I have offended you. You stopped therapy sessions, ceased using walkers, refused to meet with friends. You became less of your old self.

And now look at you! A decade after, outside the house. And with a wheelchair you chose yourself. And you tell me, over bites of sushi, that you registered to be a voter last week. I say that's great. You'll get a voter's ID next year. You smile. You are back. - 7/27/2016