The Dolphin Boy and the Hand Holder

Touched by Angels

            My daughter and I traveled frequently all throughout her childhood.  We love adventure.  The Memorial Day weekend when Lily was nine found us in the middle of Tennessee.  We stayed at a hotel with a fantastic swimming pool.  Each evening found us in the large, beautifully landscaped indoor/outdoor pool.  That’s where we met Devin.

            Lily is an only child and was unaccustomed to ten year old boys.  Add to this the fact that Devin was not your average ten-year old and trouble was brewing.   Devin took an instant liking to Lily.  They were the only two children in the pool and Devin was thrilled with his new playmate.  He started jumping near Lily, almost on top of her.  He liked to poke her.  Lily was not used to mischievous males. 

            Devin’s father explained Devin had Angelman Syndrome.  He lacked fine motor skills, like holding a pencil.  His Dad said Devin couldn’t talk.  Lily said Devin could talk.  By the end of the weekend, I agreed with Lily because Devin communicated proficiently, but I’d have to watch video to see if he was talking. 

            Devin was mainstreamed in public school.  One night I asked him, “Devin, do you get in a lot of trouble at school?”  Oh yeah he nodded with enthusiasm.  Devin also communicated through body language.  His favorite motion was holding his hand in front of his face.  His palm faced him and he moved the hand rapidly back and forth.  I never determined what that meant, but he used it a lot.  What Devin lacked he compensated for with enthusiasm and joy for living. 

            Devin loved the water.  He was in the pool for hours every night.  He was a bundle of energy.  The first night Lily was so afraid of him that my entire function was to act as a buffer between the two.

            The second night Devin’s sister was there.  Now Lily had a playmate.  She was thrilled.  I had a playmate too.  I had Devin.  For the next three nights Devin and I played.  He loved to make a running jump into the pool landing inches from me.  Devin climbed up my back like I was a mountain and jumped off my shoulders.  When he was temporarily tired he grabbed me and clung to me, like I was an island. 

            Devin was nervous going between the indoor and outdoor area of the pool.  You went through a small corridor that had perhaps 12 inches of breathing room above the water line.  Devin couldn’t coordinate to walk through that corridor.  The first time I got him through by telling him to hold his breath as I pulled him.  He didn’t like that.  The next time I tried floating him through on his back.  That worked.  I was told Devin couldn’t swim, but I saw him swim.  Devin also liked to chase objects in the pool.  Devin could do more than you think.

            Devin would jump excitedly to me and I would “catch” him.  We also played tag.  He tagged me “it”.  Then, when I chased him and tagged him he slapped me, angrily.  Then he laughed and planted big, wet kisses on my cheek.  He was such a boy.  We never saw Devin in the day time, because we were always out, but we played every night.  As we were flying home I told Lily, “I’ll miss Devin.” 

            July saw us at a fair in Ontario.  Lily loves fairs.  I purchased her an armband, so she could go on the rides as many times as she wanted.  I take that literally, it means as many times as she wants.  It means over and over, until you lose count. 

            Lily fell in love with a ride called the Cannon Ball.  It takes you high in the air then plunges you down like an out-of-control elevator, stopping short before it hits the ground.  Lily went on that ride over and over.  I stood watching her for hours.  In the evening a group of three stopped to watch the ride.  It was two adults with a teenager who had Down’s syndrome.  “Brian,” they said to him, “Watch that ride.”  They were fascinated by it.

            Brian watched the ride, but before he did that he reached over and took my hand, holding it in his own.  He didn’t let go.  We all stood, watching the ride.  We were interrupted by Lily walking towards me.  “Lily,” I told her, “This is Brian, and he likes me.”  She smiled.  Brian’s parents told him he had to go.  He released my hand.  I was so happy to meet Brian.  He reminded of Devin, but quieter.  I look forward to the next angel who touches me.  They communicate in the language of acceptance and love.  They contribute more than you think.