I went to my senior prom expecting absolutely nothing more than a quiet, difficult night designed simply to prove to myself that I could still physically show up for my own life despite everything that had been taken from me. Instead, a quiet, unassuming boy named Daniel gently rolled my wheelchair onto the crowded dance floor and, completely without any grand fanfare or dramatic display, handed me back a precious piece of myself that I truly thought I’d lost forever in the violent wreckage of that highway years before. In the gentle strength of his steady hands and the comforting warmth of his easy laughter, I felt something profound that I hadn’t felt in a very long time: I felt entirely ordinary, completely unbroken, and deeply worthy of being seen by the world around me.
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