Steve

It's been said that my brother in law, Steve, is handicapped. But the more time I spend with him and the more I learn about him, the more I realize it is me that has the handicap.

Steve is fearless in places that I will never be. Just this past weekend, I watched as he joined in on a game of Crochet, with strangers. That is something I could never do.

Steve speaks his mind, but never at anyone else's expense. He does not ever hurt anyone's feelings. He makes people feel good. I wish I had that ability.

Steve takes the bus to the mall. I hate to drive, would like to go to the mall, but won't. I wish I wasn't so afraid of the bus. I fear getting lost. Taking the wrong bus. Having trouble finding my way. Not Steve. He can get you anywhere by bus. He is actually going to take me to the mall, next month. Something I could never do alone, he does all the time fearlessly.

Steve is proud. Proud to get his discount on the bus, for having a handicap card. He doesn't look at it as a negative. He looks at it as a positive. His bus fee will be less than mine. I wish I could look at life with such rosy glasses. I wish I could look at the scar on my stomach in a positive light, but instead I complain.

Steve laughs. He laughs a lot. And he doesn't care who is looking. Or who is laughing with him. He laughs anyway. I, however, most of the time, laugh at the right times and places. I need to learn from him.

Steve asks questions. All sorts of questions. And he gets answers. He never beats around the bush. Or is left wondering. Those questions I feel silly to ask, Steve asks. And he gets answers.

Steve is loved. Everyone who meets him, instantly loves him. His soul is sweet and genuine. Non-judgemental and curious. Sometimes, I think I scare people away. If only I had a little of the bright sun he shines.

Steve might be labeled handicapped, but I beg to differ. Steve has it going on. The only handicap I see when I'm with him, is me.