re-post
Yesterday, riding the bus, expecting adventure. It happened.
Two – special kids – got on. A girl and a boy, late teens or early twenties. She made it on easily but he had to run and the door had already closed, the bus about to pull away. Not bound by convention he pounded on the door, shouted, and the driver kindly let him aboard with a friendly greeting.
They knew each other, the girl and the boy. Of course they sat together. Of course they talked.
She was telling him she liked him. Over and over. He made retching noises, expressing his opinion of her sentiment but he sounded rather pleased. Over and over.
It was the kind of scene that those of us not considered mentally challenged might have caught eye about and exchanged smiles. Perhaps some did and this is rather a unique kind of communication, if you think about it. Perhaps a "there but for the grace of God…." kind of silent message. A sharing amongst those of us more holding to societal restrictions about speaking so openly in public.
In any case I was facing forward so missed out on this kind of interchange. At one point I did casually look back to get a better look at the couple and she was kissing the picture of what I can only assume was his bus pass.
After many minutes the sound of the retching did make me want to somehow advise him to cease, sort of like putting out a hand to still the overly active swinging of the leg of a child that has become annoying. Many more minutes and I would likely have made a point of smiling at the young man with the hope of distraction if not his getting the point of enough of this behaviour. But my stop came up and I got off and the drama continued without me. Thoughts of the encounter stayed with me.
I have not only worked with such special people but lived in a staff residence house on the grounds of what was then called a hospital for the mentally retarded on the shores of Lake Muskoka in Ontario. Those 'children' were a part of my life then and their influence has stayed with me over the years, triggered by those two on the bus.
It seems I am able to quickly again enter their world and yet have not lost the awareness of how strange it seemed at first to be around fellow beings who seemed to have different boundaries. And moving into their sphere does not mean I can become a part of it – I will explain this in a moment – but there is an understanding that their world mimics mine but is just different. It elicits respect and I find this worthwhile. It makes me rather envious of their freedom of expression and I learn from this awareness. They are people with a bit of an extra ingredient.
What I want to share is an experience I had all those many years ago when I was new to the situation and trying to understand their world.
There were twin ladies in that institution, perhaps in their forties. They did not communicate verbally but seemed to have a silent language of their own with each other. They were identical, same simple hospital haircut, always wore the same colour blouse and slacks. Were always together. Now what intrigued me about them is that they had this repetitive behaviour of sitting beside each other on chairs. One would lift her right foot, rest it on the chair seat, undo and rety her shoe, then put her foot down. Immediately the other sister would raise her right foot and repeat the action exactly. Then first twin would raise left foot. And on it would go. Over and over and over.
Once,I sat down in a third chair beside them and when second sister had completed her first shoe I raised my right foot, untied and retied my hospital white. As I was doing this I was aware that both women had turned to me in unison and when I looked back they were both staring at me with identical non-expressions but the look in their eyes made me put down my foot, stand up and walk away, never to try that again. I had never before – or since – felt such an intruder.