LIFE UNBOUND: Holy Holes, Batman!
Barton and Megan Cutter
A monthly series by S. Barton Cutter
Nine years ago, we were delighted to buy a home in Raleigh that met nearly all of our needs in ways that were certainly beyond our imaginings. Even so, the holes in the wall were inevitable since our hallway is nearly as narrow as the doors themselves, making it difficult to pass through even in my most concentrated periods of driving.
Today, Megan and I have a running bet on who makes the largest holes and how many holes each of us can make. I’m sure this bet will grow substantially, but at the moment I believe both Megan and I are at a fairly even standing with many holes apiece.
Now, you have to understand that when I say “hole” I’m referring to any instance where the force of the impact has broken through both sides of the drywall and left a miniature window into the inner workings of our house. Certainly nothing less than this is worth mentioning.
Perhaps the most amusing incident concerning my wheelchair and our less-than-perfect driving record happened while I was in the bathroom. Megan tried to bring my wheelchair into the bedroom from the hall. I sat patiently and waited as I listened to her drive down the hallway. Once she reached the bedroom door, I began hearing all sorts of bangs and dings against the door frame.
A minute later, there was a loud crash, and I distinctly heard the words, “Oh s**t!”
I didn’t even have time to wonder what happened. Megan and my wheelchair had hurtled across the bedroom floor and slammed into the opposite wall.
“What on earth happened?” I exclaimed.
All Megan could do was laugh, so I sat bewildered, pants down on the toilet, trying to surmise how she managed to ram the wheelchair into the wall. After she got me up off the toilet and into my chair, we both perused the situation.
Clearly, Megan was having trouble getting through our door.
Somehow, she first tore the door itself off its hinges and was laughing so hard at that point that she forgot to remove her hand from the control. Into the opposite wall she careened. In her wake, there was a three-inch by four-inch hole at the base of the wall right above the molding. Absolutely beautiful as far as holes go!
Later on, Megan claimed this entire mishap was due to the differing dimensions between my new wheelchair and the old one she had grown accustomed to driving. According to her, not only was this wheelchair longer and more bulky, but the “combat mode” also provided more umph to its maneuverability. Even so, how this translates directly into tearing a door completely from its hinges, I will never know.
Over the years, it has brought me great joy to watch Megan shift her perspective on what it means to have a beautiful and loving home. Much like my stepmother, she grew up to believe that the physical appearance of a home’s interior was the trademark sign of elegance and beauty.
Excerpt: Ink in the Wheels: Stories to Make Love Roll
© 2013 S. Barton and Megan M. Cutter
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