After Joe and I had lunch at the Royal Ontario Museum on Saturday we planned to go for stroll down Philosopher's Walk, which is a beautiful area beside the museum to stroll through a small park. In my wheelchair bag we'd packed the novels we are currently reading and we planned to stop at some point and sit in the quiet and simply read.
I had just mentioned to Joe how I wish those who designed parks had an understanding of diversity. Park benches are made for exactly one size of person with exactly one type of mobility. For me, and for many I know, they are too low to sit on. For others I know, they are too tall. We chatted as we strolled about how nice it would be if there were a variety of types and sizes of benches.
As if our words had magically created it.
There was a tall bench.
It wasn't in the best place. There was no shade. It looked over some greenery but the primary view was of construction. But - it was tall. I pulled over to the side, parked my wheelchair and transferred out of the chair and onto the bench. The first time I'd sat on a public bench since the onset of my disability. It was amazing.
We sat there for as long as we could bear the sun, quietly, and we read. Joe decided against reading his novel and opted to do the crossword puzzle in the paper, but I pulled out my book and set about reading.
In the sun.
In the fresh air.
On Philosopher's Walk.
Sitting on a bench.
I don't know how that bench came to be. I don't know why it's taller than other benches. I don't know who put it there or why.
So ... instead of struggling to figure that out.
I choose to believe that it magically appeared.
It's more fun.