The grey haired woman and her son.

A few years ago I was sitting in my car out the front of the local shopping centre.

Waiting for Maddie to finish work/about to go shopping/having a nap, I am not sure WHY I was there but the point is I was sitting in my car when an older woman walked past with her son.

They were smiling at each other.

The son, probably in his mid twenties, had his hand protectively hovering near the small of her back.

He was animately telling her something.

The mother started laughing, the son joined in and they continued on their way.

I couldn’t hear what they were laughing about, but, like my reason for sitting there, it was inconsequential.

I sat there transfixed.

Watching them until they were out of sight, batting away the tears.

The woman, probably in her fifties, impeccably dressed, her face framed with wisps of silver grey hair escaping from her long ponytail.

The son, slightly overweight, dressed for comfort, his face showing typical features of Downs Syndrome.

The pair so happy to just be together.

Sharing a story.  A joke.  A walk to the shops.

The mutual love radiating from them.

At this time Boo was difficult to take anywhere.

He became so easily overwhelmed it was just easier to just… not.

To be able to just walk down the street, to have a conversation and a laugh was just so impossible.

Incomprehensible.

I found myself wishing that was me.

That maybe, if I worked hard enough, wished on enough stars and four leafed clovers, one day when I was old and grey Boo and I would be able to do something so mundane as walk to the shops and share a laugh.

Today, I walked past that spot where I parked all those years ago.

And I realised that my wish has already come true.

Many years before I even dreamed that day sitting in my car batting away those jealous tears.