she threw her head backwards as she was eased out of the water in the big pool
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the back of her lifejacket stopped her from hurting herself
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pushing with her hands, inching forward with her feet,
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guided with occasional touches by one who could see
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she eventually reached the warm water in the hot tub, and expressed her satisfaction
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in a language few could understand
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her head tilted backwards still, and occasionally moved side to side
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unseeing eyes pointed upward,
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unhearing ears – misshapen, ornamental attachments that funnelled no sound
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quiet in the warm water, reaching occasionally for the one who brought her there
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the one who understood groans of pleasure as opposed to groans of pain
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or boredom
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legs bent and stiff, arms awkwardly yet insistently looking for life
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She reached out to touch my son’s leg, then withdrew her hand
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it could have been an accidental spasm
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but her friend gave intention to the movement – said she was just checking her sense that someone was there
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I asked if she would respond to my touch
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her friend said that it was good for her to encounter strangers
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her world was so full of them
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I reached out and touched her arm, then her hand
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she grasped mine firmly, and we sat there for a while
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then she groaned again – I asked her friend if she wanted me to let go
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“yes,” she said
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“she’s had enough”
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“Thank you for not being afraid. For not pulling your children away as though she were dangerous.”
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later in the evening, my son suggested that maybe that girl that we saw at the pool,
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the one who couldn’t see or hear,
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maybe her friend will have to take her to Jesus
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Or maybe Jesus can just come and pick her up and take her by Himself.
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