Souls don't need legs to dance



By Kate Santich | Sentinel Staff Writer

Posted March 21, 2004

Rose petals were strewn along a grassy aisle where Michelle's father had wiped away his tears and escorted his daughter to the altar. A flute played, a covey of doves was released and fluttered off, and just as the sun set the bride and groom exchanged vows, giggling with happiness.



"Of course I do," Michelle had said, crinkling her nose.



And then Peter Carston clasped his wife's hand, walking beside her as she motored off, her wheelchair draped in satin.



"Anyone who knows Michelle and Peter knows they were destined to be together," someone would toast later, and everyone would nod.



But what a circuitous path to destiny it had been. Even Michelle had said as much.



"Waiting for the perfect man to come along and sweep me off of my wheels reminds me of my yearning to scratch a fierce itch," the 34-year-old had written a few months before the wedding. "That's not so easy for a quadriplegic like me."
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