A State of Being.

I saw a man in the supermarket today, a man I’ve seen there often. I say ‘seen,’ but the first indicator of his presence is always his voice. It’s very loud and he talks almost incessantly.

I’d say he’s in his mid-thirties, but I’m sure his mental age is rather lower. He’s always with a much older woman who I assume to be his mother, and he follows her around while she does the shopping without, as far as I’ve seen so far, ever consulting him. It’s evident that he knows lots of people who shop there, but it’s also apparent that he doesn’t need to know a person in order to engage them in conversation. If you can call it conversation. It’s always the simplest of stuff: the state of the weather, what he had for breakfast, where he went yesterday...

He obviously has a condition. I doubt he had much education, and I can’t imagine he’s ever had a job, a string of commitments or a troublesome romantic entanglement. There was a time when people would have called him ‘touched’ or ‘a bit simple.’ Some would have mocked him, some patronised him, some shunned him. All I could see was that he projected more vitality and apparent contentment than most of us can manage.

A woman was watching him today. She turned to me and smiled knowingly. All I could think to say to her was

‘I’ll bet he’s happier than I am.’