Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash

I love her.

With every ounce of my being for every fibre of hers, I love her.

When I speak her beautiful name, Hazel; I love her.

When I think of her radiant face, her almond shaped eyes, I love her.

A violation of social norms; my love for her – my love.

How did I once believe I could not express or even feel this kind of love for her?

Who convinced me to ever doubt its existence?

Robbing me of those early precious moments.

Stolen time squandered on falsehood and fear; on Down’s syndrome, but not on her.

We were uninsured against such a heinous crime.

I love her precious, peculiar ways.

Pursuing unmarked pathways, she searches out joy.

Holding in her hands, the only navigation system she knows or needs: this moment.

Along these mystic trails I follow her, entering worlds of rituals and discovery.

A journey begun in hospital corridors that signposted a different way, on clinic walls painted with despair.

Uncertainty has become constant in our lives.

Walking hand in hand with each other and with faith, it is the only certain thing we possess.

Apart from my love for her, my love.

Under cover of prevailing gloom, we graffitied those hospital corridors as we left.

Tagged them with love as markers of hope, we committed our heinous crime.

#WDSD23 #DownSyndrome #Love #Hope #Humanity