Inspired by this pic, posted by dome-of-silence on her Tumblr blog.

Source: Dome-of-silence.tumblr.com

It was a clumsy embrace, the family clinging together in their moment of pure joy. Each had such high hopes for this moment, such fears that it might not come to be. Hours of exercises, hard work, and prayer had all centered on the moment Timothy could someday step forward on his own, the despised calipers left behind.

Of course Dad was late. Timothy knew not to expect his father to be on time; rounds could not be cancelled that day. Still, the empty seat left beside Mum spoke of her wish that his father would be there.

Timothy was glad Dad didn’t arrive on time. His father would insist on taking off the calipers himself, and Timothy worried that the sight of his father at his feet at just that moment would be too upsetting. He wasn’t a little boy any more. He would have to gather all his courage to do this. Dad didn’t have to see his attempts. Timothy wanted his father to see his success.

Mum would do it efficiently, her years of training as a nurse helping to keep the moment light. She would remove the polished leather and metal matter-of-factly, a supportive smile on her face. They understood one another, needed each other. Timothy knew how much she loved him, and felt lucky that she loved him by choice.

He stood on his weakened legs, supporting himself with his two canes. Step by step he struggled towards the carpet, his determination growing.

“You’re all right, dearest,” he heard his mother whisper, her voice completely certain. With a deep breath, he pushed off. He could feel the carpet tug against his shoe for a moment, and felt irritation rise in his throat. If he were to stumble because of some stupid green carpet…

But he didn’t stumble. He moved the cane forward and continued. With each step he could feel his confidence grow, his legs grow stronger. He looked up, smiling widely, and saw his father enter the hall. Yes, he thought. I can do it.

He dropped a cane and felt his back strengthen. Blood pumped in his ears as he took another step, never noticing the second cane fall away. It felt as if he was running, his heart pounding with pride as he made to meet his father.

Then somehow they were in a huddle, the three of them, stunned, and happy, and together.

“I did it, Dad,” he exclaimed.

“Well done, son,” came his choked reply.

Timothy heard the relief in his father’s voice and his mother’s laugh. His arms clutched at them, overwhelmed for just a moment, and together, Patrick and Shelagh helped their son get back to his feet. Patrick kept his arm around to offer support, but Timothy smiled up at him confidently.

“I can do this, Dad. I can finish.”

Patrick nodded his head quickly, and reached his hand out to his wife. Shelagh moved closer to take it, and the two followed their son back down the carpet.

“Well done, young man,” the cheerful nurse applauded. “That was quick work!”

Timothy grinned. “Yes, ma’am. That’s the way we do things in this family. Once we Turners put our minds to something, it’s done.”

The room broke out in laughter, and Patrick ran his head over his son’s hair. Timothy welcomed the affectionate gesture and grinned wider. He could see tears glistening in Dad’s eyes, his face beaming.

“Well done, son,” Patrick repeated. He ran his hand through his hair, and started to laugh. He turned to his wife, and shook his head. “Shelagh,” he breathed, dazed. Suddenly he reached out, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her.

Now, if poor Timothy Turner had not had such an astonishing day, he might have been embarrassed. He certainly would have complained loudly. And without a doubt he would have berated his father for such an awkward public display of affection.

As it was, when Patrick Turner finally released his startled wife from his kiss, all his son could say was,

“Well done, Dad.”