I am looking

Last week I took myself to Quizno's for a sandwich. While I was there a woman and her son, I'm sure, came in. He in a mechanized chair because of his cerebral palsy. Bent and twisted, he looked to be in his thirties. They took a long time deciding what they wanted. "Too many choices," I said as I walked by. She said yes.

They picked a table and he pulled his chair up to it with no difficulty. I do not know how he was controlling the chair, didn't want to stare. I liked his looks, intelligent. Liked his eyes, the kindness in his face. And I thought how his life must be. Of course, I cannot know. She fed him and held his drink for him. They talked, but I couldn't hear them. There was not much smiling, but I did see her smile once.

I visit teach a woman whose son has cerebral palsy. He graduated college, has a master's degree in social work and has a practice of sorts. Not many clients, she tells me. But that can improve.

She has spent her life helping him in every way imaginable, and I'm quite sure the same is true of the woman in Quizno's. Still takes him where he needs to go, to his doctor appointments and such, even though he now lives in a different city. She has another son, too.

I could say something like, "That's what mothers do." But I won't.

A life in a wheel chair is not easy, I am sure. Other health issues come to be because of it. No, not easy for him or for his mother.

Such people almost require us to look at our own lives anew.

Addendum:
I have just visited with my friend. She told me her son has experienced unbelievable rudeness from people, potential clients, potential employers. The dismiss him almost immediately because he is in a wheelchair or because his speech is not as clear as they would like or because surely he can't be intelligent. One prospective employer said, "Oh. You're in a wheelchair." I wish he had said, "Oh. You're not."