Her

I’m that woman. Her. The one I used to see in the shopping centre, with her arm around the man/boy with Down’s Syndrome. Wiping the nose of a woman/girl who’s taller then her. Or calming down a teenager/child having a tantrum they should have grown out of years ago. The one I used to avoid eye contact with, then panic and smile at. The one who I was relieved to scuttle past, because then I didn’t have to search frantically for the right emotion to display, when all the wrong ones were jostling for position in my head.

I never expected to be that woman. Her. But I am.

Because I didn’t realise she might have spent years wishing the day would come when her daughter had the strength to stand and walk along with her. That it didn't matter if other people stared, whispered, or veered away at the sight of someone who had something ‘wrong’ with them. Because holding hands with her girl was just about the best feeling there was. And that every single time they walked step by step together, the pride would swell and cocoon her with its warmth.

I never expected to be that woman. Her. But I am. And it’s bloody marvellous.

Video is Katrina & The Waves - Walking On Sunshine