One of the remarkable things about Esmé is that she has a tendancy to command whatever location she is in. When she walks around our neighborhood people stop to say “Hi Esmé! How are you?” No visit to her pediatrician’s office is complete without a greeting from everyone there. Folks know her at the grocery store, the pharmacy, and, essentially, every doctor’s office we frequent.
Someday she may make a fantastic (if remarkably quiet) politician. I’m pretty certain she is going to start kissing babies any day now.
One of her favorite places to visit (and be admired) is what we call “The Red Store.” The rest of you know it as Target. Esmé has pretty much always loved Target. Red has been a favorite color since early on–which can be typical of children with cortical visual impairment–so Target was a complete delight of red, everywhere. And lights! Lots of lights! When she was little and so vulnerable I would bring her and walk around for hours just to get us both out of the house.
As Esmé has gotten older and more interactive, the Red Store became a place to socialize. She could see other children (who might occasionally talk to her) and see new faces. But more than that, very quickly she became known to a number of employees at our local Target store.
Now I can’t go in alone without someone asking where Esmé is, if she is ok, and when she will be back.
What is really remarkable about this for our family is that this store has become an extension of our community. There are so many places in our community where I feel we don’t fit–sometimes figuratively, but other times quite literally: Esmé’s gait trainer is a potential menace on the sidewalk, her wheelchair is too clumsy to fit into small stores filled with precious things.
But at the Red Store we are able to explore.
Esmé has learned to walk in her gait trainer there:
She picked out her first toy all by herself there:
She has run herself into columns for fun in her own form of bumper-cars:
She has tried on accessories there during therapy sessions:
And the employees at our store always make us feel like we are welcome. Often we hear a “Hi Ezzy!” from one of her friends within moments of entering the store. We’ve had offers of help, expressions of such support when Ez is unwell, and such genuine interest in her, that it is truly and honestly so touching.
And as the colder weather begins, I am certain we will be spending more time there again, giving her space to move comfortably, chances to interact, and the opportunity to explore with more and more independence…
and to get her shopping on.
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