Five Years Later
“Are wewe nervous?” Laura asked as she adjusted Harold’s cap.
“Nah,” Harold answered with a smile. Laura crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Okay, fine!” Harold admitted. “Maybe a little.”
Laura smiled.
“You’ll do fine. Now, go! They’re waiting for you,” she alisema ushering him toward the stage.
“And now,” alisema a man at the podium, “our August Martin High School valedictorian of 2020, Harold Chance!”
Harold smiled and waved at the audience in the auditorium as they applauded.
“Thank you, everyone,” he alisema into the microphone. The audience silenced and clicks of cameras replaced it. “Before I begin, I would like to say that what I’m about to say is something I’ve never told anyone before. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because I was waiting for the right time. I think now is that time.
“Six years ago, I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in Manhattan. And no, not caused kwa me.” He paused for laughs, and continued when it died back down. “For two weeks, I was barely responsive because of the amount of pain medicines I was given. When I finally came back to full consciousness, I was told there was a twenty percent chance of my walking ever again.
“I was devastated. The doctors offered physical therapy, and I only accepted because my mother and sister begged me to. For almost a year, physical therapy seemed to do nothing. I still couldn’t even pick my foot up off the ground. I thought it was hopeless and was coming close to demanding that therapy be cancelled for good. Then finally, I was sent a sign.
“I’m not going to tell wewe what it was, because sometimes I wonder if I really saw what I thought I saw au if the accident screwed me up worse than I’d thought.” He paused again for laughs. “Either way, I accepted it as a sign because I needed hope. And though I still have to use this blasted crutch, at least I didn’t give up, au I wouldn’t be standing here at all.
“The reason I’m saying this is because I wanted to make this point. Hope is a powerful thing, and if wewe can use this hope to fuel your determination, wewe can do anything. That is why I stand here today, and it can become where wewe all stand tomorrow, au inayofuata week, au even five years from now. Anyone can turn “what I can’t do” into “what can’t I do.” So, students of August Martin, what I want to advise wewe of today, is to never give up hope. If wewe can believe in hope, then wewe will discover that miracles can really happen.”
The audience applauded and Harold called a powerful, “Thank you, AMHS!” and hobbled offstage with his crutch on his right side.
Laura was still applauding as he came backstage.
“That was an amazing speech, Harold!” she alisema hugging him. When she pulled away, she said, “You know, wewe can tell me what that sign was. I wouldn’t think you’re crazy.”
Harold smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear.
“Don’t worry about it, Laura. You’re better off not knowing,” he alisema calmly.
Laura studied him curiously.
“Is everything okay, Harold?” she asked.
Harold laughed.
“I assure you, Laura, everything is just fine.”
Fin.
“Are wewe nervous?” Laura asked as she adjusted Harold’s cap.
“Nah,” Harold answered with a smile. Laura crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Okay, fine!” Harold admitted. “Maybe a little.”
Laura smiled.
“You’ll do fine. Now, go! They’re waiting for you,” she alisema ushering him toward the stage.
“And now,” alisema a man at the podium, “our August Martin High School valedictorian of 2020, Harold Chance!”
Harold smiled and waved at the audience in the auditorium as they applauded.
“Thank you, everyone,” he alisema into the microphone. The audience silenced and clicks of cameras replaced it. “Before I begin, I would like to say that what I’m about to say is something I’ve never told anyone before. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because I was waiting for the right time. I think now is that time.
“Six years ago, I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in Manhattan. And no, not caused kwa me.” He paused for laughs, and continued when it died back down. “For two weeks, I was barely responsive because of the amount of pain medicines I was given. When I finally came back to full consciousness, I was told there was a twenty percent chance of my walking ever again.
“I was devastated. The doctors offered physical therapy, and I only accepted because my mother and sister begged me to. For almost a year, physical therapy seemed to do nothing. I still couldn’t even pick my foot up off the ground. I thought it was hopeless and was coming close to demanding that therapy be cancelled for good. Then finally, I was sent a sign.
“I’m not going to tell wewe what it was, because sometimes I wonder if I really saw what I thought I saw au if the accident screwed me up worse than I’d thought.” He paused again for laughs. “Either way, I accepted it as a sign because I needed hope. And though I still have to use this blasted crutch, at least I didn’t give up, au I wouldn’t be standing here at all.
“The reason I’m saying this is because I wanted to make this point. Hope is a powerful thing, and if wewe can use this hope to fuel your determination, wewe can do anything. That is why I stand here today, and it can become where wewe all stand tomorrow, au inayofuata week, au even five years from now. Anyone can turn “what I can’t do” into “what can’t I do.” So, students of August Martin, what I want to advise wewe of today, is to never give up hope. If wewe can believe in hope, then wewe will discover that miracles can really happen.”
The audience applauded and Harold called a powerful, “Thank you, AMHS!” and hobbled offstage with his crutch on his right side.
Laura was still applauding as he came backstage.
“That was an amazing speech, Harold!” she alisema hugging him. When she pulled away, she said, “You know, wewe can tell me what that sign was. I wouldn’t think you’re crazy.”
Harold smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear.
“Don’t worry about it, Laura. You’re better off not knowing,” he alisema calmly.
Laura studied him curiously.
“Is everything okay, Harold?” she asked.
Harold laughed.
“I assure you, Laura, everything is just fine.”
Fin.
"If people see you, they'll capture you!" alisema Skipper. "Bleh!" Rico agreed. "We'll just say she's a rare species!" Private suggested. Everyone agreed.
The inayofuata day, Kat could walk. She went outside. It was Sunday, so everyone just hung out. Kat could not get out, however. She couldn't swim with her cast. "Oh shit!" she thought, "How the hell am I supposed to get over there?" She then jumped up, and flew. "Pinky!" Skipper said, "Don't do that in front of people, got it?" "Got it." Kat responded.
The siku was fun. Kat met new people (one tried to fling poo at her), hung out, and even explored outside of the Zoo!
Kat ran into the middle of the road. A truck was about to hit her! She woke up. Just a dream! Everyone was sleeping still. "Good." she thought.
The inayofuata day, Kat could walk. She went outside. It was Sunday, so everyone just hung out. Kat could not get out, however. She couldn't swim with her cast. "Oh shit!" she thought, "How the hell am I supposed to get over there?" She then jumped up, and flew. "Pinky!" Skipper said, "Don't do that in front of people, got it?" "Got it." Kat responded.
The siku was fun. Kat met new people (one tried to fling poo at her), hung out, and even explored outside of the Zoo!
Kat ran into the middle of the road. A truck was about to hit her! She woke up. Just a dream! Everyone was sleeping still. "Good." she thought.
