Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 49
Freedom

Six weeks.

Forty-two days of the boot, the crutches, the constant awareness of his ankle. Forty-two days of sitting on the sidelines watching his team play. Forty-two days of modified gym class and missing swim practice.

But today—December 5th, a Wednesday—was follow-up appointment day.

"Nervous?" Mom asked as they drove to Dr. Chen's office.

"A little." Ash looked down at the boot he'd worn for so long it almost felt like part of his body now. "What if it's not healed enough?"

"Then we give it more time. But I think you're going to be fine." Mom smiled. "You've been so good about following instructions. Icing, elevating, not pushing it too fast."

The six weeks had been an exercise in patience. The first two weeks were the worst—complete rest, crutches everywhere, the constant throbbing ache. Weeks three and four brought gradual improvement—less pain, more mobility, starting to put some weight on it.

The last two weeks had been torture in a different way. The ankle felt mostly fine, but he still had to wear the boot, still had to sit out activities, still had to watch everyone else run and play.

"Alright, Noam, let's take a look," Dr. Chen said, gesturing for Ash to sit on the exam table.

The boot came off. Ash's ankle looked pale and slightly skinnier than the other one—six weeks without normal use had atrophied the muscles a bit. But the swelling was completely gone.

Dr. Chen examined it carefully, having Ash rotate his foot, flex and point, put weight on it gradually.

"Walk across the room for me. Just normal walking."

Ash stood, carefully placing his bare foot on the floor. The ankle felt weird—not painful, just strange after weeks of protection. He took a few steps. Then a few more.

No pain. A little stiff maybe, but no pain.

"Good. Now up on your toes."

Ash rose up on the balls of his feet. His left ankle—the injured one—protested slightly but held.

"And try a small hop."

Ash hopped. Once. Twice. The ankle was fine.

"Excellent." Dr. Chen made notes. "The ligaments have healed well. You still have some muscle weakness from disuse, but that'll come back quickly once you start activities again."

"So I can play baseball? And swim?"

"You can return to activities gradually. Start with light practice this week—no games yet, no competitive swimming. See how the ankle feels. If there's no pain or swelling, you can increase intensity next week." Dr. Chen looked at him seriously. "But you need to listen to your body. If it hurts, stop. Don't push through pain. Understood?"

"Understood."

"And you'll want to do some ankle strengthening exercises. I'll send a list home with you." Dr. Chen smiled. "But yes, you're cleared to play. No more boot."

No more boot.

The words hit Ash with unexpected force. Six weeks of limitation, and now—freedom.

In the car, Ash kept flexing his ankle, marveling at the ability to move it freely. No boot, no crutches, just his own two working feet.

"Can I go outside when we get home?" he asked.

"Don't you have homework?"

"I'll do it after. Please? I just want to run."

Mom glanced at him, saw something in his face. "Okay. But if your ankle starts hurting—"

"I'll stop immediately. I promise."

At home, Ash changed into sneakers—real sneakers, not the boot—for the first time in six weeks. Laced them up, marveling at how normal it felt.

He went out to the backyard.

It was December, cold but not freezing. The grass was brown and dormant. The sky was gray. It didn't matter.

Ash started running.

Just running, for the pure joy of it. Around the yard, back and forth, his feet hitting the ground in steady rhythm. His ankle held. No pain, just the slight stiffness of disuse that would fade with time.

He ran faster. Pushed off harder. Changed direction, testing his ankle's stability.

It held.

He was whole again.

Ash stopped in the middle of the yard, breathing hard, grinning like an idiot. His body worked. Could run, could move, could do what he told it to.

For six weeks, he'd been broken. Limited. Reminded daily that his body could betray him.

But now he was fixed. Healed. Complete.

"Looking good out there!" Dad called from the back door. He'd apparently come home from work early. "How's it feel?"

"It feels perfect!"

"Want to throw the ball around?"

Did he ever.

Dad got his glove and a baseball. They started tossing it back and forth across the yard, easy throws at first, then gradually harder.

"Your ankle okay?" Dad called.

"It's great!"

They played catch until dinner, Ash's arm getting tired before his ankle did. When Mom called them in, Ash was sweaty and happy and more alive than he'd felt in weeks.

The next day at school, Ash walked in without crutches for the first time since October.

"Noam! You're walking!" Emma ran up to him at the door.

"Boot came off yesterday."

"That's awesome! Can you play at recess?"

"Dr. Chen said I can do light activity. So yeah, probably."

At recess, Ash joined the basketball game for the first time in six weeks. He didn't go hard—took it easy, didn't jump for rebounds, didn't cut as sharply as usual. But he played.

And his ankle held.

"Man, it's good to have you back," Marcus said after making a shot. "We missed you out here."

"I missed being out here."

That afternoon, Mom drove him to the aquatic center. Coach Sarah had cleared him for light practice—swimming but no flip turns, no pushing off walls hard, just getting back in the water.

In the locker room, changing into his swim trunks felt like coming home. Ash had missed this—the chlorine smell, the echo of voices, the casual nudity of boys changing for practice.

Six weeks was the longest he'd gone without swimming since he'd started at age two.

The water felt perfect. Cool and familiar. Ash pushed off gently, started an easy freestyle. His ankle flexed with each kick, a little stiff but functional.

He swam lap after lap, not pushing pace, just enjoying the movement. The water supporting his body. His muscles remembering the rhythm.

Coach Sarah watched from the deck. "How's it feel?"

"Good! Really good!"

"Take it easy today. We'll gradually build back up." She smiled. "It's good to have you back, Noam."

After practice, in the shower with the other boys, Daniel asked, "You coming back for real now?"

"Yeah. Still taking it easy for another week or so, but I'm back."

"Good. We've got a meet in two weeks. You'll be ready by then?"

"Definitely."

Getting dressed, Ash caught himself smiling for no reason. Just happy. Just grateful to be back.

That Saturday, he went to his team's baseball game—the last one of the fall season. He'd been to all the games during his injury, but always as a spectator, sitting in the dugout in street clothes.

Today he wore his uniform.

"Walsh! You're back!" Tyler high-fived him. "You playing?"

"Not yet. Doc said I can practice but no games until next week. But I can warm up with you guys."

During warm-ups, Ash took ground balls at shortstop. His ankle held through the lateral movements, the quick stops, the changes in direction.

It felt so good to be back on the field.

Coach Williams kept him on the bench during the game—following doctor's orders—but having him in uniform, part of the team again, made a difference.

They won 6-4. After the game, the team gathered for their usual post-game meeting.

"Great season, everyone," Coach Williams said. "We finished 12-6, second place in our division. I'm proud of all of you." He looked around at the team. "We'll have a few weeks off, then winter training starts in January. Anyone interested in private lessons or hitting clinic, let me know."

As they packed up equipment, Marcus said, "My dad's taking me to the batting cages tomorrow. Want to come? Your ankle up for it?"

Ash thought about it. The batting cages wouldn't require much running or lateral movement. Just standing and swinging.

"Yeah. I think so. Let me ask my parents."

That evening at dinner, Ash couldn't stop talking. About swimming practice, about taking ground balls, about the batting cages tomorrow.

"Someone's excited," Eden said. She'd come over for dinner, bringing Sophie with her. Claire was working a night shift at the hospital.

"I can play again," Ash said. "Like, actually play. Not just sit and watch."

"We noticed," Dad said, amused. "You've been bouncing since you got home."

"Is your ankle all better, Uncle Noam?" Sophie asked.

"Yep. All healed."

"Good. Because you have to teach me how to swim next summer. You promised."

"I did promise. And now I can actually do it."

After dinner, Ash went outside again. It was dark and cold, but he didn't care. He ran laps around the yard, testing his ankle, feeling his body work properly.

"You're going to wear yourself out," Mom called from the back door.

"I have six weeks of energy to burn off!"

"Five more minutes, then come in. It's freezing out there."

Ash ran for five more minutes, then went inside, his cheeks flushed from cold and exertion, his body tired in the good way.

That night, lying in bed, Ash thought about the past six weeks. About learning what it felt like to be limited. About patience and healing and waiting.

About how much he'd taken for granted—the ability to run, to play, to move without thinking about it.

"My name is Ash," he whispered to the dark. "I'm thirty-one years old. I'm nine years old. Today I got my boot off and I can run again and I forgot how good it feels to just be whole."

Four thousand, nine hundred and thirty-six days to go.

But today hadn't been about counting down. Today had been about running in circles in the backyard for the pure joy of it. About throwing a baseball with Dad. About swimming laps that didn't count for anything except feeling the water again.

Today had been about getting his body back.

And tomorrow he'd take it to the batting cages.

And next week he'd play in a real game again.

And the week after that he'd have his first swim meet since the injury.

His ankle might never be quite the same—might always be a little weaker, might need extra warm-up, might remind him occasionally of the injury.

But it was healed. It was functional. It was his.

And that was enough.

More than enough.

He fell asleep with his ankle feeling normal—no boot, no ice pack, no elevation. Just his ankle, part of his body, ready to run and swim and play.

Ready for whatever came next.

Free.