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Special Teens
Mar. 17th, 2008 10:05 amI’m sitting at Panera writing, and a group of special teens just came in for breakfast. One of the girls is in a similar wheelchair as my daughter. It’s even razzleberry colored like Caitlin’s. I’m on the verge of tears, and I’m not quite sure why.
It’s wonderful to see that we are not alone, but it’s also a bit terrifying. When I was growing up, children like my daughter were mostly institutionalized. Even now, it’s very rare that we see other kids as disabled as Caitlin is when we’re out and about. In some ways, it makes it easier for us to forget how disabled she is. She’s just Caitlin. Seeing others like her and watching how others treat them make it all more real. With that reality comes the dark understandings of my daughter’s future, no matter how much she’s currently thriving.
I also keep getting distracted because that girl is making similar sounds to Caitlin. My brain knows that Caitlin is at school, but my father instincts are locked a certain way.
It’s wonderful to see that we are not alone, but it’s also a bit terrifying. When I was growing up, children like my daughter were mostly institutionalized. Even now, it’s very rare that we see other kids as disabled as Caitlin is when we’re out and about. In some ways, it makes it easier for us to forget how disabled she is. She’s just Caitlin. Seeing others like her and watching how others treat them make it all more real. With that reality comes the dark understandings of my daughter’s future, no matter how much she’s currently thriving.
I also keep getting distracted because that girl is making similar sounds to Caitlin. My brain knows that Caitlin is at school, but my father instincts are locked a certain way.
