The wind is gusting the sails, fighting for control of our small vessel. My “special” companion works the tiller, proving surprisingly adept as he carries on a soliloquy of “Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?”
We laugh and squeal as it takes us twirling to circle round, and try again to tack, we have to yield; you cannot win a battle with the wind!
He talks about Deadpool (his obsession) asks what I’d do if I saw him coming towards us in a boat full of guns. He tries out his humour on me. I love the freedom of these “special sailors”, they never pretend, they just “are”. Though each disabled in some way they share a bond of freedom we so often lack.
I’ve always felt I could learn from everyone I encountered in life, but did I leave these out, the autistic, mongoloid, mentally handicapped, disabled?
Now I begin to understand. They have so much to teach me, of freedom, of simple joy, of appreciation, of love.
I love the sun on the water, the rush of the wind as it lifts the boat, and I love spending time with these pure ones.