I fell asleep outside the other night. Kelly and I had been reading books with Ewan on the patio couch, and when Kelly piggybacked him off to bed, I flopped over and closed my eyes. I didn’t plan on going to sleep. But frogs were croaking in the pond at the bottom of the field, and a soft breeze was blowing in from the south. The next thing I knew hours had passed, and the stars were out.
We had gone outside to read because it was easy — just two pushes through the open garage door that separates our main living area from the outside patio. When I awoke, I slipped back inside just as easily. Coffee grounds spooned into the pot, teeth brushed, Kelly kissed, and I was back asleep in bed before my body had a chance to realize it was awake.
That night and a hundred other moments like it wouldn’t have been possible in the other houses I’ve lived in. Now I can keep an eye on Ewan and Lou chasing each other around the living room while Kelly and I are getting dinner ready in the kitchen. I can roll outside with a diaper bag in one hand and baby Lou on my lap. Our home is open, accessible and connected with the outside because that’s the way we designed it.
Other wheelchair users who’ve built their own accessible homes tell similar stories: a quad in the frozen north who can now venture outside in every season, a woman who can offer her wheelchair-using friends a fully accessible place to spend the night, a mother who can once again tuck her kids into bed, and a retired teacher who no longer has to risk a fall every time he goes to the bathroom.
Click here to read full article https://newmobility.com/building-an-accessible-home-to-fit-your-life/
