In a way I don’t have anything to note here today. It has just been a normal day, in which I didn’t do anything most people would consider unusual. After breakfast I took myself up to Stratford to have lunch with my parents. There is a lovely Greek restaurant we like to go to there.

For most adults, meeting your mum and dad for lunch isn’t really something to write about: it’s a nice family event, but nothing special enough to blog about. At the same time, to me, in a way it was very special indeed. When I was growing up, I could never have imagined that I would be living by myself in the east of London: if someone had told my fourteen year old self that I would one day be trundling around the capital and meeting my parents for lunch, I would never have believed them. The idea that I could be so independent, so free, so normal would have seemed absurd. I always assumed that I would just keep living with my parents, relying on them, perpetuating my childhood for as long as possible.

That was a comforting thought: back then, the idea of ever living on my own made me feel so insecure. Yet I now find myself wishing that I could go back and tell myself that everything would be fine: that one day I would be living in my own flat, just like everyone else; that I would be travelling around London, just like everyone else. That rather than living with my parents, depending upon them, I would one day be meeting them for lunch, just like every other independent, middle-aged adult eager to catch up with the mother and father he loves so dearly. Because ultimately, I am just like everyone else.

There was a time, when I was growing up, when the thought of ever leaving the security of my family home seemed so absurd and frightening: things like riding busses, going shopping on my own, even communicating with people and telling them what I wanted, was something other people – normal people – did. Yet now, largely thanks to my communication aid and powerchair, they are as normal to me as they are to everyone else. Thus I live in this beguiling, labyrinthine, amazing world city, something I would never have once thought possible. The thought that I have come so far from the insecure child I once was, dreading the idea of even staying a single night away from home, fills me with an unimaginable pride and strength. That’s why meeting my parents for lunch today was so special, even if it was perfectly normal at the same time.