In the theater lobby, I tried not to fret. I wanted to take Collin to participate in the pre-show activities, but was instead waiting for a manager. As usual. This was our fifth time at this concert hall and the staff was zero for five on having wheelchair accessible seating ready for us. So instead of playing, we waited.
Some old friends happened by and while we were exchanging hellos, a young boy shoved his way through our little circle. He waved his arm to shoo people out of his way, his eyes trained on Collin. I'm used to stares, especially from kids, so I just gave Collin some extra love and kept chatting.
When our friends went to find their seats, the little boy was waiting, his mom and big brother close by. He was five years old, with bright eyes and baby cheeks and an almost-bowl cut. He shuffled up politely, obviously waiting for me to make introductions, but never so much as glancing at me. It was Collin he wanted to meet.
So, meet they did. He stood very close. He asked thoughtful questions. When I explained to him about how Collin keeps his eyes almost closed because of the lights, he reached out and touched my arm reassuringly. "Well you know what?" he asked, really looking at me for the first time. "When the show starts, they will turn off the lights and then he will like to open his eyes."
We talked a little more about what kind of beds they each had and how they each slept and finally it was time to take our seats.
"I hope he likes the music," said our new friend.
And as he walked into the theater, I heard him say, "Look, Mom! He's kicking! That means he's happy!"
Just in case you were wondering whether there are remarkable people out there.