Focus!

You remember Melissa, our Down's syndrome daughter - - - I am sure. Well, this was her weekend with us. But this visit was super important for her as she was to see my new living arrangement. Same old stuff - - - squashed into new spaces.
No sooner had she arrived than we were invited to an Easter music concert in the same building. That would be fun, so we accepted. It was happy, bees-in-your-honey music and we grinned at one another. One moment later I turned to whisper something to Melissa, but her chair was empty. My blood drained down to my heels. Edging up to a real panic, I looked down one hall and then another.
The halls were empty. Fifteen - - twenty - - thirty minutes passed.I am sure my fears were contagious for everyone seemed to be looking for her.

I went back up to our new apartment and waited. I was frightfully aware of what could happen to someone as vulnerable as Melisssa. There was the huge shopping mall parking lot, the shops along the strip, the super Genuardi's store, the strangers, the cars zooming along on Boot Road, the fact that she was non-verbal - - I shivered.

Dear God, surely You will watch over her. Please send an angel to show her how to get home. Surely she will remember. Finally splitting the silence in two, the telephone rang. It was Howard our security guard from the front desk.

"Melissa Jane just walked in the front door with a big smile on her face. Looks like she has been on a shopping spree."

"Shopping?" I tried to keep my voice low. "Oh thank you, Howard, please keep her there. I'll be right down."
Grabbing my walker I took off at breakneck speed. There she squatted on the floor in the middle of the spacious lobby in the main building, unconcerned as a naked jaybird at midnight, removing the cellophane from four decks of playing cards. Melissa sat on any cards that spilled out of her arms. She was not about to share her loot with anyone, let alone her mother.

I quickly deduced we were not at the arbitration stage so I suggested that we go upstairs to our new home. So, pockets bulging and hands full, we left the lobby for a more familiar battleground.

Melissa is non verbal so hunting for the facts of the matter was useless. Upstairs, in a calm tone of voice I reminded her of the evils of stealing.
She assured me she would never do that and we cried together and hugged and then I thought that as sure as the day ends she would.

But she had no money with her. She must have taken them. So Melissa went back to Melmark soundly scolded, and I went to bed a mother raising her daughter to steal. Horrors!

BUT, the next day, when the manager of the store was contacted to repay him for the stolen goods, the truth came out. One checker remembered her waiting in line and how she dumped all her change on the counter only to discover she did not have enough.I will not attempt to imagine the hue and cry that might have emerged. I was not there. I did not ask.

However, another checker three aisles over, offered to make up the dollar difference which ennabled Melissa to go home with her trophies and a Pepsi to boot.
A one-in-a-million young man. Kudoes! And to you, our Melissa, what can I say? Happy Easter.