Every year Candace and her family went to the fields where the daisies grew. No one had planted them there, as far as anyone knew. They just grew there in wide swaths across the land. Candace’s parents had both come with their parents when they were younger and had continued the tradition. They said it use to be more popular with people, but none of them complained about the quiet solitude.

This year was a bit different, of course, but Candace was still excited. As she sat in her chair, looking out the car window as the hills rose and fell around them, she could feel the excitement and anticipation rising. Her parents and siblings were quieter in the car than was usual and she couldn’t help but feel it was because of her.

They usually played tag first before gathering up some flowers and making bouquets, weaving flower crowns, and eating their lunch. Sometimes they made a whole day of it, lingering well into the twilight hours and watching the stars come out. Today, Candace’s parents had made a point of only packed a small lunch to ensure everyone’s expectations were set for a shorter trip.

As the daisy fields came into view everyone in the car noticeably perked up. Conversations became more excited and sounded much more like the usual sort Candace was used to during these trips. Her mom steered the van over to the side of the road where they usually parked and everyone except Candace joined in the flurry of unbuckling seatbelts and opening doors.

Candace’s dad got out and then came around to where she sat.

“How was the ride?” he asked.

“It was good,” she answered.

He nodded and began unhooking the straps that held her wheelchair in place. Then he wheeled her around and lifted her, wheelchair and all, down from the van. Her dad grunted a bit from the effort but otherwise made no complaints. He helped push her through the gravel beside the road and over into the fields. The flowers rose up all around Candace and she breathed in their scents.

Already her siblings were chasing each other through the flowers and her parents were busy ferrying picnic blankets and other things back and forth from the van. She listened to the voices of her siblings, laughing and shouting as they ran, and remembered when her own voice was mingled with theirs. She remembered those gentle moments, after the running and shouting were over, when she would just walk through the flowers on her own, letting her hands reach down and just barely stroke the heads of each flower as she passed.

Reaching out, she could still touch the flowers but the effort to control her arms was too great for it to really be the same. Her hands, like her feet, were barely under her control anymore. Sometimes she could feel more, could move more, but for the most part her limbs were useless to her now.

Her mom came and sat down beside Candace.

“How you doing sweetie?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Candace answered.

Her mom followed Candace’s gaze to where the others were playing and was quiet. It was the sort of silence that Candace knew was meant to make her speak. An awkward, expectant silence. She didn’t like that sort of silence but also didn’t want to break it.

“A lot can change in a year,” her mom finally said.

Candace nodded, surprised to finally notice that her mom’s hand was resting on her own. She couldn’t feel it and wasn’t sure if her mom realized that or not. They were all still getting used to the changes.

“Do you want me to push you around?” her mom asked.

Candace looked down at the soft earth and imagined her wheels sinking in and how difficult it would be for anyone to push her through this field.

“No, I like it here,” Candace said.

Her mom nodded and gave Candace’s hand a squeeze she still couldn’t feel.

“You want some lunch?” her mom asked.

“I can wait,” Candace told her.

“Okay.”

Her dad came over and joined them, dropping down onto one of the picnic blankets with a deeply satisfied sigh. He lay down, letting his head rest among the stalks let out another sigh.

“I’ve missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” Candace murmured, though it was so quiet she wasn’t sure her parents had heard her.

The rest of the late morning was spent watching the insects as they flitted around the field and laughing at the antics of her siblings. It really was a lovely day, not too hot and just enough of a breeze to keep the bugs from becoming a nuisance.

While they sat and ate lunch, Candace drifted off to sleep, content in the joy her family felt. As she slept, she dreamed of walking through the fields of daisies. She felt the cool earth beneath her bare feet and the soft, strange texture of flower petals against her fingertips. She caught a ladybug and could pick out each and every leg as it walked along her palm.

On the ride home, that afternoon, Candace longed for the days when such dreams weren’t so far out of reach, and yet she found comfort in the things she still could enjoy. Perhaps some day she would have those joys back for herself, but for now she was glad that others could still enjoy them.