A Perfect Strike

The pins ungracefully crashed to the polished floor as he bowled his first strike of the game. And what a strike it was. He turned back to me and gave me a thumbs up, accompanied with a big, toothy smile that seemed to say “Here I am world, just try and stop me.” He came to sit down next to me while he waited for his next turn. He held out his hand in front of me. “Hi, my name Tony.” My hand met his halfway, and we shook. He shook hands the way he bowled, aggressively and stronger than he probably realized. “Did I get your name?” he asked. Yes, he had gotten my name; several times, in fact. But I didn’t mind meeting Tony again. In fact, I was honored. “My name’s Kyle,” I reiterated with a smile. He seemed genuinely glad to meet me again for the first time.

He sure loved to talk about his siblings, more so than most people I know. “I have two brothers,” he told me with confidence.  He got up again to bowl, and this time he did not get a strike. In fact, he only hit a few pins. But, he was unwavering in his resolve. “One of these days, I’m gonna get a trophy!” he told me. Despite the fact that he is a grown man with Down’s syndrome, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that one day, he will.