Last week, I found myself at a local coffee shop, seated at one of the accessible tables. My belongings were spread out, coffee in hand, ready to tackle some work. The table bore a small marker—a symbol indicating it was designated for wheelchair users like me. But as I sat there, I began to ponder the true meaning of that symbol.
The purpose of such designations is to ensure that people with disabilities have a space where they can comfortably work, eat, or simply exist in a public setting. It is an acknowledgment that accessibility matters. But here’s the thing: while the table may be designed with accessibility in mind, it is not a table just for me. It is a table for anyone who needs it.
If someone had approached me and asked, “Can I sit here too?” my answer would have been a resounding yes. Because that table, while accessible, is not exclusive. It is a space for anyone—a place to rest, to gather thoughts, to work, or simply to breathe.
I think about all the possibilities that table represents. It could be a refuge for someone needing a break from the rush of the day, setting down their burdens alongside their coffee cup. It could be a haven for a book lover, lost in a story. Or maybe it is where a casual conversation begins, sparked by the big, goofy yellow dog lying quietly beneath the table, tail wagging at the possibility of a friendly pet.
We live in a world where our focus is often directed inward—our own lives, our own struggles. We sometimes forget to notice the people sitting just a few feet away. Too often, we see others as strangers, obstacles, or distractions instead of potential connections.
But what if we shifted our perspective? What if we saw spaces like that accessible table not as individual territories, but as shared places, open to all? What if we recognized them as opportunities to connect?
I believe we need more moments where we simply sit together, whether to chat or to exist quietly in each other’s company. There is something powerful about being present with another person, even if only for a short while.
So, if you ever see me at a table like that, do not hesitate. Walk up, meet my eyes, and ask, “Can I sit here too?” And I will say yes, gladly inviting you to share the space. Because at the end of the day, that table is not just for me—it is for anyone who needs it.
Maybe we will talk about life, about our mutual love for this coffee shop, or about the silly antics of our dogs. Or maybe we will simply sit in silence, each focused on our own tasks, comforted by the presence of another person nearby.
In a world that often feels isolating, taking a seat at the table might just be the first step toward creating a little more connection, understanding, and community.
Leave a Reply