Last year brought me to Italy. Sitting at cafés watching crowds of people pass by and wandering through villages and cities I had only read about, it was difficult not to think about the path that had brought me there. The streets were narrower than I imagined. The buildings were older than anything I was used to seeing.
Italy gave me time to reflect.
At home, I rely on walking poles. Italy presented different challenges. Cobblestone streets, uneven surfaces, and the realities of navigating unfamiliar places required a different approach. My brothers pushed me through cities, villages, museums, and public squares, determined that I would experience Italy, not simply visit it.
During that trip, I was reminded of something I had known for most of my life. My brothers never spent much time dwelling on what could not be done. Their attention was usually on the solution rather than the obstacle. Pushing a wheelchair through crowded streets in Italy was simply another example of a lesson they had been teaching me my entire life.
This June, I turn 51.
Looking back, it is clear how much I learned from the example set by my family and how much of my life reflects it. Growing up with two siblings meant living in a home where challenges were met with the belief that there was always another way. Challenges were acknowledged, but they were rarely allowed to define what came next. When problems arose, my parents, brothers, and I looked for another way. Difficult circumstances were approached with the expectation that somehow, some way, we would figure things out.
That mindset became part of who I am.
Disability was part of my life, but it was never treated as a reason to lower expectations. My family recognized the realities that came with it, yet they never allowed those realities to become the focus of my life. Expectations remained expectations. I was encouraged to participate, contribute, try things, and find my own way. If one path proved difficult, another could often be found.
Looking back now, I understand what a gift that was.
The beliefs that shaped our home never really left. They followed me into school, work, and experiences I never imagined as a child. They showed up in the choices I made, the risks I was willing to take, and eventually in a trip to Italy.
Fifty was a good year. Italy was part of it.
What stays with me most, though, is the reminder of who helped make those experiences possible.
To my family: Thank you for always helping me find another way.
— KAW
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