Just Sneeze

"Sometimes I sneeze, too," said a soft voice as I stood waiting, wishing I could wipe my freshly, sneezed-into hand on my pants. I turned toward the voice. There sat a chubby, 20-something girl with Down Syndrome. She smiled at me.
"Sometimes I sneeze," she said again.
Heading toward her, I ask if she has allergies or is getting over a cold as I am.
"No...sometimes I just sneeze," she answered.

Sarah is her name. She was writing poetry with a red pen in a pink journal and wore socks with hearts on them. We chatted. Then the food I was waiting for arrived and I said good-bye.

In the car, I paused. For the past 6 weeks I have been in emotional turmoil. As my world seemed to be making huge shifts, my heart would cringe at the uncertainty. I want this to make sense. My reaction to this feeling is to frantically look for answers. Sometimes they arrive. Sometimes they don't. All the while I feel guilty if I am sad because I know I am fortunate. I feel guilty if I am scared because I know I really will be okay and I have people that love and support me.
I thought about Sarah. Sometime she just sneezes. There is no reason. There is no answer; sometimes Sarah just sneezes.

Sometimes I am just sad.
Sometimes I am just happy.
Sometimes I am just scared.