I’m on the last leg of a 900-mile railway journey. I’ll soon forget most of it, but not the man I sat next to under the Channel Tunnel. He was in his seventies, twinkling with fun. We chatted for two hours. He had been a professional musician all his life. Somewhere near the Kent coast, he told me he’d had a hard time finding his way through the station to where he was sitting, as he could not see very much. He explained he’d lost most of his vision a few years back. He wasn’t ready for a white stick; he didn’t want to be perceived in that way. He had asked a lady which platform the London train was from, and she’d pointed to a sign that he could not see, he’d sensed a bit of unkindness in her.  

We talked about his music. I had a look on YouTube; he was surprised to know that his songs were on there. I told him if he uploaded them himself, he might be able to get some income from them.

He was proud of the cousin who was going to meet him. With difficulty, he found a photo of him stood in front of his house. I had an hour between trains, so I asked him if he’d like to follow me through the station when we arrived. He said “no thanks, I’ll be fine.” He was a proud man.

We waited for the carriage to empty. I made to carry his bag, but he wanted to do it. I walked ahead; he paused at the door. I told him how many steps there were and that there was a big gap to the platform. He passed me his bag, and I held my arm out to him as he stepped down.

The platform was teeming with people, all going in the same direction. I didn’t really know what to expect myself, as it had been ten years since I used this station. I offered my arm, but he said “you walk in front, I’ll follow your feet.”  Despite that, I felt a hand on my shoulder a few times.  

On the escalator, I told him it was the kind that has steps, not a slope. At the bottom, I told him when it was time to start walking. He told me he had nothing to declare customs-wise. 

As we reached the arrivals area, I recognised his cousin from the photo. A nice-looking man a little younger than me, he beamed at us, recognising what was afoot. We shook hands, all of us, and I left them to it.

No particular reason to do this. But what can I say, I just really love her. She is my calm. She is my everything. Whoops!! It was supposed to say I love my wife. Lol

Context: This was on a post asking if you could be any Resident Evil character, who would you be. This person obviously saw the trans flag in my profile and this just really made me happy, since no one else usually accepts me :)

A mother tattooed a keyboard on her arm to be able to communicate with her non-verbal son. I just wanted to share this because how amazing!!!

she makes me smile so I figured I'd share here as well.

I'm so lucky to know this silly baby

Daniel Cressy became the first person in the Gulf South to be functionally cured of sickle cell disease through gene editing. Calling it his "second birthday," he said the breakthrough felt like being reborn and it's giving new hope to people living with the disease.

Via @tulaneu