I got on the bus tonight with bags full of groceries weighing on my arms, my iPod plugged firmly into my head, and my toes exposed to the balmy air in silver-gray flip flops.

I was in a hurry to get home and clean the house and start the laundry and take out the recycling and make some sort of chicken parmigiana I planned to invent from three different recipes.

My brain was in fifty places… none of them where I actually was.

But as soon as I set my things down, I saw her looking at me intently, mouthing something I couldn’t hear over Ella Fitzgerald singing. I pulled the ear buds out as quickly as I could, but she was already mid-sentence.

“I’m engaged!”

She was maybe 25ish, about two inches shorter than me, blonde curly hair, showstopper smile, with Down’s Syndrome.

“You are? Congratulations!”

She nodded and beamed.

“Do you want to see his picture?” I spotted a diamond in a band on her left hand as she handed me a photo booth strip of a grinning young man, also with Down’s.

“Very handsome!” She giggled and took the picture back hastily, lest I get any ideas.

“I’m so excited! I didn’t know it would happen, but our moms and dads said okay.”

“That’s awesome!” I said. “Do you have a date picked?”

“June 17th.”

“Oh, good, lots of time to plan.”

“Plan?”

“The wedding. They’re pretty busy.”

“Yes. Well, my mom will help.”

“Yes, that’s what moms do.”

We sat in silence for a moment until she turned to someone else to tell her news. I smiled out the window and popped my ear buds back in to finish Ella’s song. Moments later, though, I felt her hand on my arm, squeezing insistently.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Are you married?”

“Oh, no…” I said. “Not yet.”

“Don’t you worry. It’ll happen.”

“I’m sure, one day.” Her face turned serious at my cavalier response.

“No. I mean it. It will.”

“Okay. I bet you’re right.”

“All you have to do is get your parents to say yes.”