“Monday: Three steps.”
“Tuesday: Five steps.”
“Thursday: Seven steps.”
I turned toward Robert.
“What is all this?”
Before he could answer, Ben gently tugged my hand.
“Grandma, I wanted to walk for you.”
I froze.
Ben had been born with a condition that made controlling his legs difficult. Despite years of treatment and physical therapy, he still struggled with his balance.
We always helped him move around. When he couldn’t climb stairs, we carried him. When he wanted to cross a room, we held his hand.
Robert wiped his eyes.
“Two months ago, we saw a little boy running into his grandmother’s arms at the park. Ben asked me if he would ever be able to do that.”
My husband paused.
“I spoke with his physical therapist. He showed us safe exercises we could practice at home. I built these rails following his instructions.”
“But why the secrecy?” I asked.