Roy Tomkinson: Look At the Person.

I was talking to a young lady yesterday, I say a young lady, a teenager would be more nearer the mark, and despite her illness, she was smiling all the time. I stopped, said hello, and sat on a bench next to her.

"You are the first to talk with me in over an hour. Everyone who passed pretended not to see me."

"I stopped because you look so happy. Why so happy," I said.

"I'm alive, that is happiness in itself."

"Yes but..." I thought, think Roy, think, before you reply. Quite novel for me really, normally my mouth gets the better of me. "But I mean..."

"Say it," she smiled.

"Say what?" I was on the defensive.

"How can I smile and be happy when I can't walk or use my hands."

"I... I..." My tongue couldn't move in my mouth.

"It's alright, I understand."

This person was apologising to me, for my deficiency. I was looking at her affliction and not at the person. She could see it in my eyes, frequently it must have happened to her, and she thought it funny.

"I look terrible, my face is not right, I can't more; my eyes are off the scale."

I took a deep breath. "No! No... you look... please, I didn't mean to offend, I think you look, well alright."

She gave a sweet laugh. "No I don't, please don't lie to me, I couldn't face it myself after my accident, used to cry all the time, but I am what I am, and have now accepted myself: I am me to me; you are you to you, and you are troubled and lonely: inside I shine, so must you. Look through me into my heart, I am but a person like you. You must write - Roy."

"I know that," I said light-heartedly. "How did you know I write and my name?" I gasped, feeling very uncomfortable. I hadn't written anything meaningful for nearly a year. This teenager had the measure of me, made me feel glad I stopped to talk, and yet I felt somewhat afraid. I stayed and talked with her for a few hours, and when it was time to go I wanted to stay.

"It's late, you have been here hours."

"Doesn't seem that long," I replied.

"Tell me, why did you stay so long and talk with me?"

"Alright, alright, I will come clean. When I saw you first, I felt sorry for you, and stayed to talk, perhaps to make me feel good not you, a good turn and all that...

She smiled a wonderful smile. "And now?"

"Not so. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, I have grown a lot in sense over the last few hours. And I will write."

"Now what do you see?" she casually asked.

"What I should have seen at the beginning, a remarkable person, you are remarkable."

"No not remarkable, just like you."

"No not like me, better than me... please, let me finish. I saw a cripple first, now I realise the cripple was me and not you, a cripple of the mind, thank you for opening my eyes. Could I please write to you, and call you my friend?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes, if you have the time, I would like that very much. I see why you smile all the time, inside you are an angel, your email!"

"Tomorrow, come back tomorrow. I will meet you be that church over there."

"There!" I pointed.

She nodded. "I am always in the ether."

I left, and returned the next day to the park, walked over to the church, but she was not there. Come to think of it: where were her attendants when I was talking to her? She was alone and yet she could not walk or use her hands. It never dawned on me until that moment.

I stayed by the church for over an hour, but she didn't show, eventually I went into the church, and sat at the back, wondering where she was, somehow I knew as we parted, she wouldn't show. This was a one off meeting, the word she used yesterday came into my mind - ether - (I live in air) perhaps she was an angel?

Anyway, I am now back writing, and I didn't even catch her name, yet she knew mine and my profession. Weird don't you think? Perhaps it was meant to be, who know? I don't!