A bit of bippity-boppity-boo dust, the help of two sisters, and a dress with sparkles turned my special needs daughter into Cinderella last night. Prom night.
Cameras, strobe lights, hip hop, line dancing, off-key Mamma Mia choruses, a live band, Italian cuisine, friends holding hands, hugs, and laughter. Something every mother wants her child to experience.
Ten years ago, I struggled to accept the reality of my daughter’s special needs. Developmentally delayed? Mentally retarded? No, not my child. The wheelchairs, faces of Down syndrome young adults, and awkward dance moves would’ve unmasked my fears, revealing the concrete reality that my child’s future would be different.
But last night amidst the disco lights I envisioned a brighter future for my daughter. One with people who invested in her life-the workers in the college transitional life skills program who put together the event, the musicians who volunteered their time to enrich the kids’ days, the parents who daily walk beside their kids, the siblings who cheer them along. And the friends. Other young adults who know their struggles, accept them, and love them.
Throughout her life she’s had friends, but they were there for a season, until they “outgrew” her. Kind kids, but they didn’t have special needs, and their lives moved on. Bethany always seemed to be left behind looking wistfully at the dust of long-gone friendships.
These kids who bounced around the dance floor with her last night will probably never outgrow her. They genuinely like her. She finally fits somewhere.
