It had been too long since I'd seen David Lowe, the Cool Shiny Man.
For the better part of two years, I brought gifts from the TCC community to ransom him out of the VA and bring him back to campus so he could rejoin the community and -- above all - graduate.
So I invited him to join me and my kids for a very late lunch which happily turned out to be my third lunch that day.
When we arrived at Sonny's before David, I asked the host for a table that would accommodate his wheelchair. They moved a chair out of the space so that he could pull up easily. Zoe and Zack and I were deeply engrossed in an iPhone app that is a pretend friend who is pretending to text you when Zack shouted "there he is!" and Zoe added "in the HAT! and he's WALKING!"
I jumped up.
I couldn't believe I forgot that he was better, that he could walk, and of course he would walk.
Before he could arrive at our table, we'd slid a chair in for him and the kids never mentioned a word about it.
The conversation was the usual.
What to order, how the kids are, and why he isn't going to summer school.
We sit in shocked disbelief as David explains how new million dollar arm has cool attachments like hunting knives and fishing poles. Then the conversation turns to his classmates, mutual friends and then his family.
David's niece, he tells me, is very into genealogy, a secret passion of mine that I've decided not to explore until I finish two books and somehow have someone ask me to leave the country.
I won't leave the US without an invitation, it's my quirk.
David and I fall deeper and deeper into a conversation while passing the bottles of bbq sauce between us.
We both admit to being closet Genealogists and we both watch that awsome series "Who do you think you are" where people like Sarah Jessica Parker, Lionel Ritchie and Rosie O'Donnell traced their family history and uncovered amazing things.
While this is going on, I can't help how quiet Zoe is being. She is across from me, her face in what can't quite be called a scowl, but definitely frozen in disapproval.
This is strange, I tell myself and then silently try to figure out what could be going wrong here.
I know it wasn't David - she loves him.
I know it isn't the food - she cleared her plate.
I know it wasn't my fashion -- she approved my outfit before we arrive.
I mentally step out of our conversation for a minute and certified there was no cursing.
Finally Zoe can't help herself any longer.
She stands up from her side of the table, walks around behind Mr. David and whispers in my ear, "I do NOT think it's appropriate that you are talking about vaginas."
I look back at her, stunned.
She leans in close to my face, and whispers sternly "Gynecologists are vagina doctors, I know that Mom. Change the subject."
David and I laugh, and then Zoe understands and laughs at herself.
Soon after that, our late lunch ends and we go off our separate ways, me with my kids and David with his freedom and fishing rod.