We sat in the car for almost ten hours, crossing state border after state border. We had an audio book which kept us entertained and distracted for a fair bit of time. I had several work calls and even more emails, all of which kept me busy for a good portion of the time. But, being read a book and being called on for work aside, ten hours is still a very long drive.
We are staying for the weekend at a hotel directly across from a Whole Foods Market with a wonderful buffet of vegetarian items. It was raining, just slightly, when we pulled in so we braved it and rushed into the store. First stop, as would be obvious, was the washroom. Then, oh and then ...
It was a floor that deserved ... I don't know ... poetry.
It was a floor that deserved ... I don't know ... flowers and candy.
It was a floor that deserved ... I don't know ... L<3ve ve--="ve--">3ve>
I never understood floors, until I became a wheelchair user. I didn't notice the plush of a carpet, the difference between tile and wood, painted or bare concrete. I do now. Some floors are just made to roll on. Some floors seem to make me stronger, make my push firmer, allow my turns to pivot professionally. Some floors are made for wheelchairs.
This was one of those floors.
We went from one side of the store to another. We went from produce, to dairy, to kitchenwares, to grocery, to the frozen aisle. Everywhere I turned, I turned with ease. The floor invited me to explore.
After hours of sitting, driving, listening, answering emails, I got a floor completely worth the trip. Sometimes having a disability means experiencing things that others simply don't notice ...
... like floors that deserve ... I don't know ... a blog post.