
I’m working on a friends book at a restaurant down in San Diego, and, even as I type there’s a young woman sitting at the table next to me who is talking to another woman who seems to be her mentor. The younger woman is mentally challenged. She speaks in loud, straight sentences that mostly communicate facts: this coco is hot. This floor is scratched. I like the sunshine. I’m fascinated, though. I’m loving it, actually. I know I’m wrong to be listening in on somebody else’s conversation, but how can I not? I appreciate the simplicity and even the beauty of her awareness of herself, of what she likes, of what is good, and even of what isn’t. She thinks decaf coffee is dumb. And it is, isn’t it? What got me, though, was when she started talking about relationships. She told her mentor about a girl who didn’t like her. She said this girl had hurt her feelings. When the mentor asked why, what it was that hurt her feelings, the young woman didn’t accuse the girl of maliciousness or justify her anger or even repeat whatever the comment was that caused the pain. The young woman just [...]









