Benjamin goes on a walk every day. Sometimes it is with a science teacher who has generously made Ben part of his routine. Other mornings he rambles with a kind woman who accepts him whether or not he tells her jokes. 

 

Mostly he is part of a quartet, consisting of two special needs adults and their companions. There is not usually animated conversation, or debate about world events. Yet in my experience the number of words exchanged is not the metric by which Ben measures an outing as worthwhile. Sometimes being side by side is enough.

 

The other day the young woman he walks beside was getting cold. She stopped, waiting for assistance. But she is not what you would call chatty so it took Ben a minute to understand. Then he saw her flapping coat. Being ten inches taller he bent over to reach the pull on her zipper and with some effort slid them together. She was pleased. He tugged up the metal tab to her neck and she smiled. They continued on the path. 

 

There are moments when I think it is more complicated than this. Certainly the media, and life's inescapable comparisons tell me as much. But then if I push aside the clamor long enough to witness the attentiveness of a young man who lives in a dimension where prestige and political sway are as empty as his first seven doors on the Trader Joe's Advent calendar, it all feels gloriously simple.