outside my window

Outside my window is a place I cannot go. The accessible room in this hotel has a lovely view of a trellised walkway through a beautiful green space.The surface on the walkway, for me as a wheelchair user, looks welcoming for a push after work. But this whole idyllic space is not meant for me, or those like me. There are stairs everywhere, not a ramp to be seen, I can't and won't be able to go out and push through the park. I feel like someone looking out at a world that I can not participate  in.

Sometimes, like now, I get jealous of people like those walking, this morning, in the midst of such beauty. I get jealous of the fact that they don't even have to consider access. I get jealous of the fact that they go about their day simply knowing, not even assuming, that the world is open to them. If any of them notice that there, on the pathway there are people missing, I'd be surprised.

I wonder why this is my view.

I wonder if this is to put me in my place.

And I wish it was! I wish that architects and designers gave it that much thought. I am here looking and they are there walking and the casual cruelty of this, to me, is magnified by the fact that no one thought of what that might mean to someone like me.

Outside my window I see the world as I fear it is envisioned.

Without us.

Without a trace.

Or a memory.

Of us.