I so well remember driving to daycare after my day of teaching high school. I turned the corner at Elm Park and saw a young lady walking with a little girl who was holding a small cane. It was a minute until I realized, with a lump in my throat and a few tears in my eyes, that that little girl with the cane was my little girl.

I pulled over to watch. My little girl needed that cane. It was the first time I saw it, and it was hard for me. I wept and wept. I felt so badly for her and for me. After I dried my eyes, I went along to the daycare center and parked the car and walked back toward them. As I approached, I called out to Jameyanne and ran to her. “Wow—look at that neat cane! You’re doing a great job! Show Mommy what you do with it. Can we bring it home to show Daddy?” Stephanie and Jameyanne decorated the cane during the year for Christmas, Easter, July 4th, and Halloween. Jameyanne’s brother, Michael, wanted one, too!

My Father, especially, refused the cane. God would cure her; she didn’t need that thing. God knew how I understood him. So Jameyanne and my Dad and I went to the mall together, and I left them. I asked my Dad to help her and make her click her way through the mall. I reminded him that she did need the cane, but more so, she needed him to like the cane. He understood, and they spent that time together—all three of them.

Mary E. Fuller
Mother of a 15-year-old daughter with aniridia glaucoma
Concord, New Hampshire