Earth Angel

I had an amazing morning.

I have not yet worn my Sophie's Run T-shirt out and about. It's only because I am not that casual when I stop in to pick up work. In fact, I have never once worn any sort of T-shirt into the medical center. This morning something felt different. The dang thing wasn't even clean, but I threw it in the dryer to smooth out the wrinkles. I just HAD to wear it.

I soon found out why.

I drove Erik out to the stables this morning for therapy. A woman I never saw before was in the small observation room gathering her things to leave. I said hello as I led Erik through the door. She saw my shirt and asked, "Did you do Sophie's Run in Corvallis?" Surprised, I told her I had and began a conversation with her. She introduced herself and said she walked with Bev, Erik's therapist, every day at 6 a.m. Bev went to Corvallis to support us this year, so this lady knew about Erik and the race. I was happy to talk to someone who knew about the event on this side of mountain. Soon after we began talking, a beautiful, slim, long-legged 6-year-old girl walked slightly haltingly but purposefully through the door with Ms. G, Erik's private therapist. She wore a brightly striped sweater, jeans, and soft, colorful Nike shoes. Her hands gently but constantly tapped together, and she was noticeably silent. The woman introduced the girl to me as her adopted daughter, who was diagnosed at 3-1/2 with Rett syndrome.

There were many amazing things about this conversation. First of all, being completely caught off guard by this very sweet woman was a pleasant surprise. There is no way to say this without sounding psychotic, but we connected immediately, and I was excited about that. As we got into our conversation, we discussed feeling invisible at the playground or out in public, and how woman seem to be more cruel than men when they realize our children are different. We simply seem to fall off the radar at times to some people. I admitted I no longer go to the playground with Erik alone because of this. She told me how to get a caseworker here through the county to help me fight for Erik. We discussed how amazed we were by the typical 1-year-old boy whose mother works at the stables. I called him a "walking fetus," and she laughed. She understood exactly what I meant without me having to utter a word of explanation. We discussed how things could be worse, and how she unapologetically wished her daughter had Williams syndrome instead of Rett syndrome. Yes, someone envied my circumstances! If in the middle of feeling sorry for yourself you have someone tell you they wished they were in your shoes, it tends to change your perspective. She told me the story of how they adopted their children, and I was covered in a layer of goosebumps several times hearing the whole gorgeous story.

The most amazing thing of all was that she told me that she was related to the only other person in town with Williams syndrome. This would be the mythical girl I occasionally mention and have yet to see but hear about here and there. Can you believe it? Being in complete shock, I can't recall exactly how, but I believe she was her step-aunt, or something to that effect. Was today a friendly sign that it's time to cross paths with the other WS family in town? I don't know how I feel anymore, actually. After all, I know one of them now. I was originally dead set against it, but now I'm not so sure. I readily admitted my fears to her but told her I'm getting stronger; and I meant it.

We talked for what seemed like forever, but we both didn't want to stop. She told me she had every reason to believe Erik was going to be just fine. I told her I heard that once in the past, days after his diagnosis, and I couldn't make myself believe it for one second at that moment but that now I was almost certain it would be true. The plastic words that had wounded me like a dagger a year before were now soothing, especially coming from this woman, and I could accept them as the truth. She very gently but confidently reached out to pat my hand before she left and told me she was glad she said something to me. If I hadn't felt a little off balance, I would have hugged this stranger.

As I watched her go, I felt like laughing and crying at the very same time.