Christmas morning, 1979, 1980 – I do not remember for sure. I could not wait to wake up to the gift I had asked for.
I just knew my roller skates would be waiting for me under the tree. The Rainbow Roller Rink was one of the most popular places for kids to hang out.
The reality was, I stunk at roller skating. Roller skating and a muscle disease are not a great pairing. All my friends were there, though, so naturally that is where I wanted to be, too. My very own pair of Strawberry Shortcake skates would surely be the ticket to making me a skillful roller skater. Finally allowing me to let go of the railing and join the others, I thought.
However, that is not the way things played out at all. When my parents revealed to me my new shiny bicycle named “The Cactus Rose” I lost it. Pouting, crying, complete devastation. I was an ungrateful brat. I regret it, but it is the truth. Downright awful. Somewhere out there is a picture of me perched on my bike that morning, with an ugly, pouting face. To this day, my family still teases me about it.
Amy still has her “Cactus Rose” bicycle she received for Christmas more than 40 years ago. (Photo provided by Amy Shinneman)
I was persistent. I wanted those skates. I just knew they were going to change my life. Had to have them.
My parents finally took me to the store to buy the skates with money that I had received for Christmas. It was not that the skates were expensive. They were far less expensive than a bicycle. My parents knew those skates were not going to change anything for me and my roller-skating dreams. I am sure they were trying to protect me from the inevitable emotional collapse. At the store, they had the exact skates I wanted. A half size too small, I squeezed my foot into one and announced they were perfect (honestly, they hurt, but I was not about to leave there without them). I could not wait to try them out at the roller rink and effortlessly skate amongst my friends.
My first outing with those skates was soul crushing. They had not changed anything for me. There were the same as the skates I had rented all the times before. I still stunk at skating. I couldn’t stay on my feet. No matter how much I wanted it, I did not have the muscle power and balance that my friends did. My dreams were crushed. I am not sure if I ever put those skates on again.
What I did do is develop a love for that darn Cactus Rose. Arguably the first love of my life was that bike. It, more than anything else, allowed me to feel freedom from the physical chains of my disability. What it did for me is truly priceless. I rode for hours upon end on that bike. Of course, I still own it. I could never let it go. Who even knows where those skates are?! Of course, my parents knew that would be the gift that kept on giving. I cherish the memories of those days when my body was far more physically able than it is now. I like to go back to those days in my mind and just sit in those thoughts. They comfort me.
Looking back on those embarrassing and not flattering moments in our lives takes humble courage. Admitting our regrets and seeing the beauty of the unexpected gifts we have received in our lives – sometimes not so graciously – those are the best gifts of all.
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.