It’s the last day of March. For John and me, it is the first Sunday spending our day in the garden. I open my eyes and it’s “Oh, my God” . . . the sight of the flowers, colors composition. The warmth of the sun through my skin. I realize my son John, who has Down Syndrome and several other handicaps, does not suffer. He doesn’t suffer not hearing Beethoven or rapping with his iPod. He is filled to his capacity in the life he has. No one should pity him, nor try to create worlds he doesn’t have. I am delightfully happy in his presence and he in mine. I, in turn, am very tolerant of all the levels of human development this world has to offer. There is plenty of kinship for me to feel comfortable with and plenty of the other sort of people who heartily disagree with my thinking but who give me a vast choice of new ideas to pursue. Life couldn’t be better as well as the speed with which it is all happening. I feel quite in tune with this life.