Strangely shining moments

...and as I sit in the grass and watch the horses parade in circles, their thrilled and sometimes bewildered riders clinging like velcro to their backs, I play with the dirty clovers and searched for four-leaved ones, like when I was a child and would spend hours combing through a field for good luck. The fat golden retriever with its waving fan of a tail makes me six again, in the summer grass with my best friend and his briar-covered fur. In the distance, beyond the hyacinth and hibiscus, the volcano is topped with ice. The wind is so very clean.

Later, I hold a baby with Down's syndrome in my lap and croon songs to him in English. I haven't held a baby in many years, but it feels good, wide eyes looking into mine, small body cradled against my hip. He is beautiful, pudgy-cheeked, and there is a strange sadness knowing already at seven months that he will never grow up to be what we humans so arbitrarily classify as normal.

One tiny girl is fierce and bright, a shining star; she is here because her toddler sister has Down's. She likes me, I don't know why, and holds my hand whenever we walk. She likes to sit on my lap, and I stroke her long dark hair, and I think, I would like to have a daughter someday.

Here, in this place, I find unexpected moments of beauty.