We ventured out on Saturday and went to the Indian Festival, which is an annual celebration of Native American culture and food, which just happens to be just a few miles from the house. Sarah actually grew up just blocks from the festival, which she attended as a kid, but we had actually never been as a family, until this year. It turned out to be a lot of fun and we had perfect weather along with it. Jonah was able to spray a fire hose, go on a horse and wagon ride, and eat massive amounts of kettle corn. Even Eli was mildly entertained, I suppose by the kettle corn alone. Mira had a great time too - she really enjoyed being out in the sun and we did a serious amount of off-roading in her chair, as most of the tents and displays were out in the fields or grass, which made navigating her chair a workout for me, especially when going uphill.
Walking through the historic house they had on display and experiencing the wagons, houses, and other period artifacts had me thinking about children with disabilities, of all things. I imagined trying to raise a child with Mira's issues, in that era - with the barest of essentials, the lack of therapies, and wheelchairs, and just the general living conditions that people endured back then. I couldn't imagine trying to raise a child with special needs with so very little and in such harsh conditions - we are all very accustomed to having everything so accessible and available, that it really put things in perspective. Pushing her up the hill seemed so trivial afterward. We had great weather, no mud, an actual wheelchair to guide us through, and food in our stomach as we worked our way around the festival. In 1850, living in a tiny one-room structure, with a leaking roof, outdoor plumbing, with no diapers, no safety beds, and no access to medication would have been brutal for a child like Mira - simply surviving the winter would have been the priority.
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