The eyes got me.
I was rolling out of the grocery store and I saw her walking with a staff and one other woman with a disability. Her hair looked like she should have spent 4 or 5 months longer on that particular grooming programme. She smiled at me and I smiled back. Disability to disability kind of thing. Then, suddenly as if she'd realized she'd broken a rule by greeting a stranger, she looked quickly forward.
As I rolled closer, I waved and smiled again. She broke into a wee grin and nodded. Again, her head snapped away from me. She'd learned the stranger rule. You could see she wore the rule like a straight-jacket holding in her bouyant Down Syndrome spirit and I could almost feel her desire for a friendly 'hello' and a bit of a chat. But she knew the rule and she walked on.
As we passed her eyes glanced down at me - mine glanced up at hers. Fits of giggles overtook her. She'd followed the rule and broken it at the same time. Minor rebellion, major accomplisment.
I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. There is no point to it. It was just a wonderful moment - I wish I could describe the life and liveliness in her eyes. I wish I could describe the beauty of those eyes and their sparkle. But it wouldn't matter cause the moment may have only mattered to me and her. I guess I'm telling this story because writing it down makes it real to me.
And there is something about her I want to remember.
I think it was her eyes.
No, not the eyes, exactly.
Maybe the freedom the sense of life and fun I saw therein.
I'm glad she followed the rule of safety.
And I'm glad she knew how to be herself anyway.