On our way out yesterday we left the building and Joe, who was wrestling the bundle buggy, stopped or organise himself for a moment or two. I went ahead and, like a kid excited by the opportunity, ran the chair through a fairly deep puddle of water and listened, satisfied to the splash. Joe was taking longer than I expected so I turned to see what he was up to. Just as I turned he was on his was again so I kept turning and he joined me as I straightened the chair out. Joe noticed, and pointed out to me, that my wet tires had made a lovely and quite graceful circle on the dry pavement.
We went shopping because this morning we are going to make a great cauldron of soup. The grocery store was a ballet of cooperation. Joe got the turnip, I got the parsnips, he sought the potatoes, I selected the carrots. The bag grew in size as he picked up this and I picked up that. We found some cereal that we thought the kids would like and as we are seeing them on Sunday, in the bag it went. Soon the bundle buggy was full, the bag on the back of my chair could hold no more, so we headed to the checkout counter. The line up was long so I went scooted round to the other side and sat waiting for Joe and watching people in the food court.
The way home was made difficult by the surprising number of people out on the street. Joe with his buggy and me on my buggy made for a lot of negotiation but everyone seemed in good humour. A fellow, drunk to the point of foaming at the corners of his mouth, approached me to tell me how pleased he was to see that I was out and about, I couldn't return the compliment and the red light I was waiting at seemed to stop and stare at our odd interaction. Finally it changed and we were on our way again. Joe reminded me of a fellow wheelchair user who said that a wheelchair was a magnet for social inappropriateness. We laughed.
There is construction on our street so I zipped head on the road, the sidewalk being completely blocked. Joe, pushing the cart, laden with beans and bananas, was a little slower. I had an inspiration. I rushed ahead and parked my chair dead centre in the puddle. I looked at the lay of the land and knew it could be done. I went back and forth slowly in the water making sure that my tires were completely coated with water. Then, I began.
I drove up, made a turn, made another turn, and headed straight back to the puddle. I turned around to see and sure enough I'd traced out a wheelchair heart on the dry pavement. I didn't say a word as Joe approached, but when he saw it his eyes lit up and he said, simply, "A heart!"
Who said romance was dead?