Admiring the Space for Steve

July 20, 2008

Liying has been away all day, every day, working on the new apartment. Last night, we planned that she would take Steve and me there (Steve has never been inside, and me, just once). But Liying was too tired.

So tonight we took the taxi. . . loading by the street curb, always we hurry, the taxi half in the street, me sliding into the back seat with Steve long and heavy upon my body. I feel that we in combination are like a big turtle climbing into narrow space, but we’re upside down, then I shift him – he’s always happy at the adventure of going somewhere, even upside down – despite our tangled feet into an upright position so he can see out the windows. Meanwhile Liying wrestles with the wheel chair, explaining and stowing it with the driver into the trunk.

It’s a lovely July evening, so all the street restaurants were full of people, to both sides before the gate to our apartment compound. To my surprise, hardly had we managed to get ourselves and Steve unslid out the taxi door and the wheel chair unstowed, but two security guards with huge smiles were opening wide the car gates for Steve, for all of us. A special entry.

Everything looked surprising clear and real to my eye this time, more vivid than memory of that other visit a month ago. People were out in numbers in the courtyard, because it was evening, time to be free on a Sunday. The pavement isn’t too bad, but it’s worn, with little flaws I hadn’t noticed before.

We left the wheel chair just inside our doorway at ground level. I found it easy on those stairs to get Steve up to our second-floor door. He was chanting loudly, excited by the new home and by my hoisting him up and up the stairs.

When we opened the heavy outer door, and then the thin wood door, Liying delightedly showed us the first and only thing in sight – the new entry cupboard, mostly her idea and design. People will put their coats and shoes here, the cupboard blocks all view into the big room. At the last minute, she added a mirror so Steve and I looked at ourselves, at how tall and upright he is, far up my chest.

We had left the FC card downstairs with the wheel chair, but Steve looked so interested and happy at everything Liying showed us. She is getting to know the apartment well indeed, working so hard on installing heaters, and checking window seals, adding electrical outlets, a new light in the bathroom and by the entry, a new shelf by the bathroom sink, shelves in the kitchen cupboards and the wardrobes built into what will be our bedroom.

She pointed to the little holes drilled for the tube for Steve’s compresser. She is organized and thinking so much through.

One of the heaters will go on the main balcony off the front room, the big room that will be Steve’s work space – Steve is happy the central, spacious place is for him. His stander (what the Institutes call the Virtual Kinesthetic Environment, or VKE) will be on the balcony year round – there is double glass floor to ceiling windows on the balcony.

From the VKE to be installed soon, from the balcony, we have a wide view of the main interior courtyard for all these apartments. It’s an urban space, concrete for playing games, three sides of a square outlined by shallow steps and lines of bushes, tables for majong, and benches and what look like playground equipment for little kids except I saw adults using them . . . to keep fit, I guess.

It’s all so different still to me, from Baraboo, yet so much friendlier than the moonscape between the apartments where we used to live. Liying joked, as the guards opened the car gates again for us to leave, that we’ll have all these restaurants close by where we can eat every night. Somehow I doubt we’ll ever eat there. Maybe I would if I were all alone, or just with Steve, but how could we order food?

I guess I should be getting ready. The workers can teach me enough words.


The next day, Steve wrote about our visit, “I just want to move soon! I like that we will have our own home and can do what we want. I like how big my work room is. I can look out the window and see Mama come.”