Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio

On the first Sunday of November, Peg’s father reveals that they will throw a party for her 13th birthday. Though Peg usually keeps track of the countdown every year, this year she has lost track of time and has forgotten all about her birthday. Peg wonders what her 13th year will bring her—a wheelchair, walking sticks and leg braces, or the gift of learning to walk again. Peg begins to think of her home, which is much more than walls and furniture. “Home,” to Peg means the people and experiences she is most fond of: her grandpa sitting next to her at dinner, her mother singing in the kitchen, the smell of clean sheets, and her father coming home from work with bubble gum. To Peg, “home [means] feeling safe and cherished” (96). At Peg’s birthday party with her family, the nurses, and her roommates, her only wish is to someday be able to walk again. The next Sunday, Peg’s parents return with a recording of all the girls enjoying the party. The girls watch it gleefully, and when it’s over, they rewind and play it again. In bed later that night, the girls talk about how fun it was to see themselves in a movie, which makes Peg reminisce about the dozens of other home movies she has “starred” in growing up.