Extra Added attachments.

The wheel chair releases you from the bed. Peter Pan flight . I have good shoulders so it's fast and safe. People tend to give you room . But most of the time now, you're at home so it doesn't matter .A smaller place than it was ,and your only territory. Two rooms and a bath . From the chair to the walker is more of  an even trade. People smile to see you standing and say something nice, but the pain is up again. These things are your legs now. They're slow and they're big and they stop you from actually walking .  And then here's the fearful thing, the thing that stabs and hangs on . Yes, it's temporary, this whole thing , you know that, you will walk again. Even With the chair , the walker, the cane . Sometimes you see a flash , small slice of fear when you joke with someone , " I'm practicing for old age, we're all going there." And they shudder just the tiniest subtle shiver there. Yes, it's temporary . But long enough to know exactly that. That the hold on your body is temporary , and that when you walk , and then maybe run, that that is temporary too. The cane , the walker, the wheel chair, can and will wait for you as long as it takes you to get back to them. They smile patiently like Norman Bates in his moms clothes. " wouldn't harm a fly". They just wait for you. And the real estate that has so diminished, that's like your Dad in Assisted Living.
    The sun stays bright on the ever moving trees. I'm glad it does. The quiet builds your own quiet. These are good, benevolent things.  The movement now  comes easier , but the pain never goes. Like the hardware, the aluminum and plastic walker and chair,  you can't move without it and you won't rest out of its sight. It tells you that it too is temporary , and its absence will also be temporary . And the sunlight on the trees is temporary, as the wind on the water. And the breeze on your face.