I carried Cindy’s bag on our very first day of school — and somehow, I never stopped. 🎒
We met in first grade. We both have Down syndrome, and that first week felt overwhelming in ways that are hard to explain. The hallways were loud, crowded, and rushed. Bells rang too sharply. Faces blurred together. Every morning, Cindy would drop her bag, freeze in place, and forget where to go next.
So I picked it up.
I stood beside her.
And I walked her to class. 🤍
When we walked together, something changed. Cindy stopped crying. She started moving forward. Step by step, day by day, we found our rhythm in a world that wasn’t built for us.
A few months later, a teacher gently said Cindy needed to walk alone — that she had to “learn independence.” The next morning, Cindy stood at the school entrance and didn’t take a single step. She just stood there, holding back tears, waiting.
So I stepped out of line.
I picked up her bag again.
And I walked with her anyway.
That moment followed us through everything.
Through new classrooms.
Through growing up.
Through the years when people stared, questioned, or misunderstood.
Now we’re adults. 🚶‍♀️🚶
Cindy still walks beside me. I still carry the bag. Not because she can’t — but because love doesn’t always look like letting go. Sometimes, love looks like staying.
What started as a small act in a noisy school hallway became our whole story. A life built on loyalty, patience, and choosing each other every single day. 💙 I support her. She trusts me. We move through the world together — steady, unbreakable.
Some people call it helping.
Some call it friendship.
For us, it’s simpler than that.
It’s who we are.
And if the world ever feels too loud again — I’ll still pick up the bag.