The Escalator

The Escalator

             My son and I are footsore and tired after a long day at the mall. It’s time to leave, but this store has strategically placed the ascending escalators at the North end and the descending escalators at the South end. Rather than trudging clear across the store, my youngest son, who has autism, does the unthinkable. Mortified, I watch as he starts down the ascending escalator.

            Thankfully, there are just a couple of shoppers, being mindlessly propelled towards the next level, their hands tightly clasped around their most recent acquisitions. Oblivious to the scowls and frowns cast his way, and unfazed by the obvious fact that this method requires a little more time and effort, he perseveres, his determination to reach his goal growing fiercer with each step.

            That said, our son does many unconventional things. He’s not constrained by the conveyor-belt mentality embedded in today’s culture. After all, aren’t escalators merely powered stairs, programmed to move up or down? Shut off the motor and you have steps that can lead either way. So I have to wonder, is it necessarily wrong or simply a novel approach to the same old routine?

            Sometimes I envy my son’s spontaneity. Though he struggles more than most to attain his goals and might not accomplish them the way many of us would, he is not bound by expectations and conventions. He is happy to be who he is, as he is, even though it doesn’t always fit the standards society dictates.

I, on the other hand, am far too attuned to other people’s reactions and overly sensitive to critical stares. I’ve been raised to buy into that conveyor-belt mentality, taught to believe it’s the only way to succeed in life. But escalators don’t build character, strength and perseverance. They just carry you along, taking you to the ‘where’ without much consideration as to the ‘why’ and ‘how.’

            In a burst of rebellion, I toss inhibition to the wind and run down the ascending escalator after him. Mind closed to the glares, I choose the unconventional method. It’s harder than I thought it would be, but by the time I reach the bottom, I feel a rush of joy and freedom that is wholly new to me.

            Someday I’ll have to do this again. But only if my son leads the way.

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