7 Inches

There is only one step in house. Just 7 inches.

“It’s the perfect house for aging in place!” we said, back before we knew what it might mean to transverse a single step with a cane or with a walker or in a wheel chair.

That little step became a huge step.

***

At first, we thought we could split the difference of the seven inches.

“We’ll make a half-way step!” We stacked carpet tiles to the halfway point. “Now, you can use your cane, and lift your foot only 3.5” (twice). It will be easier to transverse the step.”

***

When the stack of carpet tiles started to seem a little slippery, a relative made a lovely 3.5” high box from wood. He routed the edges. Sanded the planes. Stained it to match the other wood in the house.

***

Then we needed a hand rail. Something to hold onto.

“No problem!” said Ann. “I know how to rock climb. I’ll just use the hand holds on the brick wall!”

“What hand holds?” my 7 year-old whispered.

***

“Maybe you can use the walker?” I suggested.

“It’s heavy, “ said Ann. “ I need to carry things in my hands. And I can’t lift the walker that high.”

***

We got a temporary metal ramp. It folded up like an origami crane. Heavy and complicated, its location began to feel permanent.

“I don’t like this ramp,” Ann said.

“Why not?”

“It’s slippery. The incline feels dangerous. It’s ugly. It’s in the way. It doesn’t have a handrail. I can’t use my hand holds on the brick wall.”

“Maybe you should use the wheel chair when you use the ramp.”

“I don’t like the wheel chair. And I want to walk as long as I can. Use it or lose it.”

***

Then there was the day the power wheel chair went off the side of temporary ramp. Over 400 pounds of wheel chair and human, suspended 3 inches in the air, unable to to move. Two petite women with suddenly superhuman strength lifted that wheel chair back onto the ramp.

“We don’t like that ramp,” they said.