|Photo description: Young man in wheelchair glancing over his left shoulder.|
As I did so one of the fellows eating in the restaurant, beside large open windows, said to me, "You're an expert in the accessi-glance, I see." I laughed at the term and stopped my chair. He told me that his husband had used a power wheelchair the last few years of his life and he too did the accessi-glance all the time, "He'd notice a place he wanted to go in and he'd take a quick look, it only takes a second to see if a place is accessible."
I told him I was sorry about his loss, I could see that talking about his husband was still a bit painful but I could also see that he was enjoying the memories. I agreed that it only takes the briefest of looks to know. "He called it the accessi-glance, and it's funny because even though he's gone now, I still do it myself. I always feel a bit guilty going places where he couldn't." I didn't know what to say, so I said instead, "Well, I thank you for the new term, I'm going to use 'accessi-glance' all the time, because I do it all the time."
"Do you think he'd be pissed at me for going places like this, that he couldn't get in?"
"Did he love you?"
"Then, no, I don't think he'd be angry, after all you still notice and you still remember."
"He was a remarkable man."
"So are you," I said, leaving him wrapped in memories.