Into the Wind by William Loizeaux

Author:William Loizeaux [Loizeaux, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947159464
Publisher: Red Chair Press
Published: 2021-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

“I should wear a helmet and a black leather jacket!” she said, breathing hard, when we returned.

“Can I try it?” Another of those questions that just popped out of me.

“Sure!”

I fetched her cane for her. She got out of her wheelchair and stood in the shade, and I got in. I’d never been in a wheelchair before. It makes you feel small and clumsy. I couldn’t even keep myself going straight. My sweaty hands slipped on the rims, and the little front wheels wiggled every which way.

“Hard on your port wheel!” Hazel called. “Ease off on the starboard, or you’ll capsize!”

When I came back, panting and my arms feeling like mush, she was smiling to herself, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, and dabbing her forehead with a Kleenex.

“This is harder than sailing,” I said. “You know, they make wheelchairs with batteries and motors so you don’t have to wear yourself out.”

She looked at me, frowning. “And they also make motors for boats, so you don’t have to sail.” She made a huffing sound that meant she’d never heard of anything so ridiculous. “Why would I want a motor to push me when I’ve got two good hands and arms?!”

Later, drinking Coke floats, another special treat, we sat out on her patio in the warm, slanting sun. In that light, Hazel’s wrinkles seemed deep enough to slide coins into, and I could see small hollows at her temples. Her skin just then looked thin, like you could almost see right into her, while her happiness seemed to shine right out, and I could feel it too.

“I’m proud of you, Rusty.”

“It was only a B,” I said. “It might have been an easy test.”

“No, I’m not just talking about your test. The math is just part of it. There’s all the work you’ve done here this summer. There’s the fun we’ve had. There’s the sailing you’ve taught yourself. And goodness knows what else you’ve managed to do, while…” She trailed off, meaning but not saying, you’ve been without your mom.

I didn’t know how to reply to this, so I shut up. I could tell Hazel had more to say: “Whether you know it or not, you’re onto something. You’ve kept your head up. You’ve done what you had to do—the math, I mean. And you’ve thrown all you had at what you love—the sailing.”

I wanted to tell her that she’d helped me out, but she went right on. “That’s great stuff. And here’s the trick: to keep doing what you love as long as you can. Even if it gets difficult. Or because it’s difficult. I’m trying to remember that too.”

With our straws, we sucked our floats down to the gurgly bottom, and Hazel set her glass on the side table. She seemed to be thinking, and then she said, “I’ve wanted to give you something, and maybe this is the time. Stay here.” She got herself up and hobbled inside. A couple minutes later, she returned with something about the size of my math textbook wrapped in yellow paper and a white bow.

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