Allison stares at Maggie, again. 

She has been doing this all summer.  What is she thinking?  Is she thinking?  Or just observing; just wondering?  She never says anything at all.

    I have been working with Maggie at SRT for the past year and a half.   When 

    she first came she couldn’t climb.  Her trunk and legs were so weak that she 

    needed to use her hands for support.  We started crawling up simple ramp 

    ladders.  We advanced  through spandex hammocks.  We clambered onto five-

    foot high platforms.  

    I made her use her hands to hold and pull while I pushed under her heals so 

    that she would move her legs in timed sequence.  I made her sit on huge Swiss

    balls and grab for little toy birds, first to her right and then to her left.

A huge inflated obstacle course dominates the campground center.  Allison scoots through a small round door.  Maggie follows.  

Allison turns and stares.  Quiet, waiting.  Then she moves ahead.  Maggie adjusts to balance without falling on the inflated surface.

Maggie works her way through the obstacle course and stands in front of a large inflated climbing wall.  The camp counselors grab her arms and body to lift her to its top. 

        “Please put her down.”
        “Maggie, climb up.”

The counselors look doubtful, then amazed as Maggie makes her way to the wall’s top.  

She slides down the other side.

Allison is at the bottom.  She grabs Maggie’s hand.  

“Come on.  Lets go again.”

Continued to “Water, Water, Everywhere”