This morning I was having breakfast in the cafe at Fairways on Quadra (their self-serve deli has more than ninety choices of vegetables, fruits, greens, salads, cheeses, nuts, sprouts, seeds, eggs, bacon, condiments etc.).
At the table next to me was a woman with a little girl and they were having the most lively conversation along with their breakfast. As they were leaving, the woman advising the child on how to dispose of their garbage without touching the edges of the bin, helping her get her coat on, sharing a big hug and kiss when the coat collar flicked up and hit the girl in the face, the child noticed me watching and I smiled and she continued to look at me.
The woman saw this and told me, "We're having a mom play date: I don't get much time one-on-one with her." My mind started down that path of "…working mother doing her best…." But she continued, "She's a triplet, has a brother and sister at home. She's finding it a bit unusual being here without them, having me all on her own. Three two-year-olds." And she was smiling. So was I as we waved at each other as they left.
A few minutes later a woman of perhaps thirty ambled into the cafe area. She was dressed in vintage fashion, beautifully so, layers of colourful, patterned fabric, accessories, tote bag. Flowing hair. Totally at odds was the fact that she hung her head with chin near chest, eyes darting this way and that but not at all making contact with any of us around her.
As I was driving out of the parking lot along a narrow aisle a man in a wheelchair appeared at the other end of the space so I stopped to let him proceed. Which he did. There wasn't time to exchange more than a glance. His conveyance could have been a Harley; music was playing; his black leather clothing was more than mere garment ; he was a warrior in a wheeled chariot.