His eyes filled with tears.
“Because Maya needed a wheelchair, Mom.”
I stood completely still.
Maya was a girl in his eighth-grade class. I’d seen her at school events and knew she used a wheelchair, but I had never realized how difficult things had become for her.
Julian explained that her old chair had developed serious mechanical problems. The front wheels frequently became stuck, the frame was difficult to maneuver, and the worn seat needed replacement.
Sometimes, simply getting from one classroom to another took far longer than it should.
A few classmates had even made unkind remarks about the noises her chair made.
“Maya pretends it doesn’t bother her,” Julian said. “But I know it does.”
He paused, struggling to control his emotions.
“Her family has so many medical expenses right now. They can’t afford the kind of wheelchair she needs.”
I looked toward the empty guitar stand.
