Carrie Link

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Recently had coffee with a friend, and as we got our cups and looked around for a place to sit, I intentionally steered her towards one corner, away from a table where four grown men were seated. But it was a small cafe, and I could still easily overhear the four men's conversation, no matter how hard I tried not to.

One of the men had developmental disabilities, and the other three could not have been kinder towards him.

It broke my heart.

They asked how he'd done during the recent snow storm that stranded people for days/weeks.

"Okay," he answered.

"What did you do all that time?" one asked.

"TV. Lots of TV," he answered.

"Anyone check on you?" another asked.

"My sister. My sister called every night. My sister calls every night."

One of the men at the table had watched me as I looked for a place to sit, he'd seen me look at them, notice the man with the developmental differences, and subsequently choose another table. A more distant one.

Throughout my conversation with my friend I saw the man look up at me, catch my eyes.

In his eyes I saw the question, "Why do you avoid us? Don't you understand?"

I avoided them not because I don't understand, I avoided them because I do.

All too well.

I couldn't bear to let my mind go to a distant day when STM and I are gone, where Rojo lives all alone and just watches TV all day.

And where his sister calls at night.

Every night

Because she will.

I know she will.

And that day, it was all just too close to home.

I stayed away because I do understand.

I really do. And for that precious hour, I needed to forget just how much I understand.