lingua franca

Yesterday I sat in the pavilion watching Little Angel have his SLP hippotherapy. He rides the sweetest little Norwegian Fjord. Another woman, a volunteer, was also in the pavilion, finishing her lunch. She asked me for how long the Little Angel had been riding and we embarked upon a conversation.

This gorgeous woman has a daughter who will shortly be twenty-six; her daughter has significant Developmental Disabilities, and she started doing Therapeutic Riding (TR) when she was eight.

The Little Angel turned eight this summer, and this woman’s daughter is an adult, but we connected. Not only do we share a lingua franca, we share the specific Developmental Disabilities (DD) dialect. She shared with me once watching her daughter, years ago when a girl, carefully placing pebbles in a bucket. This is a child with an inability to attend, who flits and fleets between activities because her sweet brain just doesn’t understand the activity(-ies), so for this girl to sit for minutes and fill her bucket, that was H-U-G-E. It meant that she created a task and she completed the task, no hand-over-hand from anyone. I got teary hearing this, and even without knowing her daughter I knew how profoundly exciting this was. Didn’t mean her daughter was “cured,” didn’t even mean she could replicate it. But she did it once, and that’s beyond pure joy. I felt elated.

I don’t know if this mom and I shall cross paths again, but I am so grateful for our twenty minutes and for our connection. I saw this woman and she saw me.

We are SuperWomen!


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One Response to lingua franca

  1. Sometimes a shortest encounter becomes the most profound and meaningful one that touches our heart so deeply. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story with us. xx

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