Sometimes I attempt to solve problems before he has decided whether they are mine to solve.
We argue.
We apologize.
We remind each other that help offered without respect becomes control.
On the opening day of the recreation center, we held a dance for the teenagers and their families.
Music played throughout the main hall.
Every entrance opened from the same central walkway.
No side ramps hidden behind the building.
No separate doors.
No one was treated like an afterthought.
Adrian stood beside me, watching the dance floor.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
I looked at his knee brace.
Then at the slight limp he would probably always carry.
“You can’t.”
He smiled.
“Okay.”
Then he held out his hand.
“We’ll figure out what dancing looks like.”
I laughed.
Exactly as I had thirty years earlier.
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This time, neither of us crossed the room to save the other.
We simply met in the middle.
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