“CLOSE” 40 x 40″ m/m
I’m exploring my new neighborhood which seems cast in endless concrete but there is a little patch of grass Livvy and I go to each early morning and evening for her to relieve herself. She hides in long grasses and gets the privacy any girl needs.

As I wheel around here I have become a pied piper of sorts for kids mesmerized by the wheelchair and teenagers keeping just enough distance to remain cool as they take in the scene of me with dog, roses on the wheelchair, their wee and uncool brothers negotiating me up close and personal and most of all everybody getting respectful and interested attention from an adult.

Coming home this evening there was a white low rider Ford truck whose driver lowered his window and waved to me.

I thought: I can always recognize someone who has dealt with disability in their own lives by the easy effort they exhibit to greet me with none of the usual overcompensatory fear and weirdness which naturally comes with unfamiliarity.

My heart goes wide at the brief but almost sacred recognition.

I suddenly feel beautiful, important, vital and worthy.

Such a seemingly little thing.

But clearly not.

Really not….


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