Nine Steps

Journal

February. Three days after my brother's stroke. The first full sentence he said was a promise.

March. Standing for ten seconds took everything he had.

Kiara did her homework in that hospital chair every night. She told her friends she was 'fine.'

April. Home. He made his own coffee. Took eleven minutes. Best coffee I ever had.

May. To the mailbox. Then two houses. Then the corner.

Two weeks before graduation he fell in the driveway. That night in the car he told me to just save him a seat.

Graduation day. He came in the wheelchair. She had no idea what he was planning.

When they called her name, he stood up. Nine steps. I counted every one.

That evening, on the way to the cookout, she put her cap on his head. 'You earned one too, Dad.'