Five Years Later
“Are you nervous?” Laura asked as she adjusted Harold’s cap.
“Nah,” Harold answered with a smile. Laura crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Okay, fine!” Harold admitted. “Maybe a little.”
Laura smiled.
“You’ll do fine. Now, go! They’re waiting for you,” she said ushering him toward the stage.
“And now,” said a man at the podium, “our August Martin High School valedictorian of 2020, Harold Chance!”
Harold smiled and waved at the audience in the auditorium as they applauded.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said into the microphone. The audience silenced and clicks of cameras replaced it. “Before I begin, I would like to say that what I’m about to say is something I’ve never told anyone before. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because I was waiting for the right time. I think now is that time.
“Six years ago, I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in Manhattan. And no, not caused por me.” He paused for laughs, and continued when it died back down. “For two weeks, I was barely responsive because of the amount of pain medicines I was given. When I finally came back to full consciousness, I was told there was a twenty percent chance of my walking ever again.
“I was devastated. The doctors offered physical therapy, and I only accepted because my mother and sister begged me to. For almost a year, physical therapy seemed to do nothing. I still couldn’t even pick my foot up off the ground. I thought it was hopeless and was coming close to demanding that therapy be cancelled for good. Then finally, I was sent a sign.
“I’m not going to tell you what it was, because sometimes I wonder if I really saw what I thought I saw or if the accident screwed me up worse than I’d thought.” He paused again for laughs. “Either way, I accepted it as a sign because I needed hope. And though I still have to use this blasted crutch, at least I didn’t give up, or I wouldn’t be standing here at all.
“The reason I’m saying this is because I wanted to make this point. Hope is a powerful thing, and if you can use this hope to fuel your determination, you can do anything. That is why I stand here today, and it can become where you all stand tomorrow, or seguinte week, or even five years from now. Anyone can turn “what I can’t do” into “what can’t I do.” So, students of August Martin, what I want to advise you of today, is to never give up hope. If you can believe in hope, then you will discover that miracles can really happen.”
The audience applauded and Harold called a powerful, “Thank you, AMHS!” and hobbled offstage with his crutch on his right side.
Laura was still applauding as he came backstage.
“That was an amazing speech, Harold!” she said hugging him. When she pulled away, she said, “You know, you can tell me what that sign was. I wouldn’t think you’re crazy.”
Harold smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear.
“Don’t worry about it, Laura. You’re better off not knowing,” he said calmly.
Laura studied him curiously.
“Is everything okay, Harold?” she asked.
Harold laughed.
“I assure you, Laura, everything is just fine.”
Fin.
“Are you nervous?” Laura asked as she adjusted Harold’s cap.
“Nah,” Harold answered with a smile. Laura crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Okay, fine!” Harold admitted. “Maybe a little.”
Laura smiled.
“You’ll do fine. Now, go! They’re waiting for you,” she said ushering him toward the stage.
“And now,” said a man at the podium, “our August Martin High School valedictorian of 2020, Harold Chance!”
Harold smiled and waved at the audience in the auditorium as they applauded.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said into the microphone. The audience silenced and clicks of cameras replaced it. “Before I begin, I would like to say that what I’m about to say is something I’ve never told anyone before. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because I was waiting for the right time. I think now is that time.
“Six years ago, I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in Manhattan. And no, not caused por me.” He paused for laughs, and continued when it died back down. “For two weeks, I was barely responsive because of the amount of pain medicines I was given. When I finally came back to full consciousness, I was told there was a twenty percent chance of my walking ever again.
“I was devastated. The doctors offered physical therapy, and I only accepted because my mother and sister begged me to. For almost a year, physical therapy seemed to do nothing. I still couldn’t even pick my foot up off the ground. I thought it was hopeless and was coming close to demanding that therapy be cancelled for good. Then finally, I was sent a sign.
“I’m not going to tell you what it was, because sometimes I wonder if I really saw what I thought I saw or if the accident screwed me up worse than I’d thought.” He paused again for laughs. “Either way, I accepted it as a sign because I needed hope. And though I still have to use this blasted crutch, at least I didn’t give up, or I wouldn’t be standing here at all.
“The reason I’m saying this is because I wanted to make this point. Hope is a powerful thing, and if you can use this hope to fuel your determination, you can do anything. That is why I stand here today, and it can become where you all stand tomorrow, or seguinte week, or even five years from now. Anyone can turn “what I can’t do” into “what can’t I do.” So, students of August Martin, what I want to advise you of today, is to never give up hope. If you can believe in hope, then you will discover that miracles can really happen.”
The audience applauded and Harold called a powerful, “Thank you, AMHS!” and hobbled offstage with his crutch on his right side.
Laura was still applauding as he came backstage.
“That was an amazing speech, Harold!” she said hugging him. When she pulled away, she said, “You know, you can tell me what that sign was. I wouldn’t think you’re crazy.”
Harold smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear.
“Don’t worry about it, Laura. You’re better off not knowing,” he said calmly.
Laura studied him curiously.
“Is everything okay, Harold?” she asked.
Harold laughed.
“I assure you, Laura, everything is just fine.”
Fin.
