Dear Sir,
I hope I didn’t alarm you during our encounter. I was simply observing you and your daughter while waiting in line at the grocery store with my partner. You were just ahead of us, and there were a few customers in front of you.
As the line progressed, I couldn’t help but notice your daughter. She seemed a bit large for the shopping cart, and I caught her chewing on the seat belt (which, let’s face it, is pretty gross). I also noticed she wasn’t speaking, and you would often touch her before making gestures. These small details resonated with me as they reminded me of my own child, Leo, who also had a habit of chewing on the seat belt.
I turned to my partner and whispered, “Do you think that little girl can talk?” “Should I say something?” “Will he think I’m completely odd?” The uncertainty weighed on me. I didn’t want to intrude, but my curiosity was overwhelming. My partner was growing weary of my questions, and I could only imagine how you felt about my staring.
Eventually, as you completed your purchase and began to leave, my partner encouraged me, “Go on, talk to him. It’s fine.” So, I mustered my courage and approached you. Well, actually, we didn’t make it all the way to the parking lot—just to the door. With all the confidence I could gather in my petite frame, I asked, “Excuse me, but may I ask if your daughter speaks?”
You seemed taken aback by my directness, and I apologize for that. “No, she doesn’t talk. Why?” you replied. I found myself rambling about how she reminded me of my son who passed away earlier this year. I didn’t intend to bring up such a heavy topic, but my nerves got the better of me. I shared that my partner and I donate iPads to nonverbal children to help them communicate.
You informed me that your daughter already had one at school and home, using the same program we utilized with our Leo. You expressed your condolences regarding my loss, which I sincerely appreciated, though it wasn’t the focal point of our conversation. I also noticed your daughter’s attempts to hit me while we talked—your wife would have been proud of you for being cautious around a stranger.
I want to thank you for allowing me to speak with you about your daughter and for letting me share a part of my life with you without dismissing me as some eccentric stranger. Your openness about your daughter’s condition was incredibly meaningful to me, even if I can’t quite spell it here. Thank you for bringing her to the grocery store that day; it allowed me to reflect on my son and the importance of helping other nonverbal children, even if you didn’t need my iPads. It was genuinely nice to connect.
With heartfelt appreciation from your grocery store admirer,
Clara
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Summary:
In a heartfelt letter, Clara shares her encounter with a father and his nonverbal daughter at the grocery store. This touching interaction leads to a conversation about their experiences with nonverbal communication and the emotional connections formed through shared struggles. Clara reflects on her late son, Leo, and expresses gratitude for the opportunity to connect with another family.