Lemons

I followed after my grandmother as she headed for the big lemon tree in the middle of her backyard. Basket slung over my arm, I ran to catch up to her.
"Here, give me that basket you've got there," she said, holding out her hand.
"Grandma, what do you want lemons for?" I asked curiously as I sat on the cool green grass, watching her as she picked lemons from the tree and placed them carefully in the basket she held. Grandma was silent until she'd finished picking her lemons, then, she turned to face me and squatted down, offering her hand. I took it and she pulled me up.

"Why would I want lemons?" she asked, repeating my question from earlier as we slowly made our way back down the hill to the back door. I simply looked back at her when she glanced at me, not having any idea of the answer to my own question. I let out the breath I was unaware I'd been holding when Grandma spoke again.
"Well my boy," she said, resting an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the door. "Lemons as they are bitter, are they not?" I silently nodded my head in agreement. "But what happens when you take the juice and add a little sugar huh?"
"Lemonade!" I said excitedly as she set a pitcher of the freshly made liquid on the kitchen counter in front of me.
"Exactly," said Grandma with a smile. "It's like life, Max. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got."
"When life gives you lemons..." Grandad said, taking a seat on the kitchen stool beside me.
"Make lemonade!" the three of us said happily together.

Years later, a terrible accident left me a paraplegic in a wheelchair, and in the midst of my initial struggle to accept the situation for what it was, Grandma's words from all those years ago echoed in my mind as if she'd only spoke them yesterday. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got.

It was the very next day, I met a young lad who'd been stuck in a chair his whole life, and was battling to accept himself with that chair. "Hey," I said, smiling as I approached. He looked up at me from the ground and seemed to relax when he saw that I too was in a chair."I know it's hard Buddy," I said, patting his shoulder.
"How long have you been stuck?" he asked.
"A few months," I said quietly, "but I'm getting used to it."
"I've been stuck my whole life and I still hate it."
"That's ok," I said, starting to laugh a little. "I know the feeling well. Everybody has those days where they hate it. You've just got to make lemonade."
"Make lemonade?" the young boy asked, staring at me wide eyed as if I looked really stupid.
"You know that old saying?" I asked, coming closer. "When life gives you lemonade..."
"Make lemonade!" he said enthusiastically before I could finish. "Oh, I get it now!" With that, I turned and left the young boy. It didn't feel like I'd said or done much, but I saw the smile our conversation had left on the young boy's face as I rolled away.