Pink Fluffy Slipper World

I’ve had this url for years and am finally doing something with it for a web development assignment to create a city website. “Reality” can sometimes suck… so I’m not going there.

A brilliant mind, often troubled by others, called my mountain home a pink fluffy slipper world. Being loved and accepted as is—in a way most don’t—meant something. I gave pink fluffy slippers to the webbed-toed soul who heartily laughed and gave a great hug. The phrase stayed with me, and somewhere along the way, I registered the url.

My autistically created spaces—plants, gardens, painted walls, beaded shade pulls—make me comfortable. I don’t need someone to be impressed. When I hear, “Why can’t you be normal?” the answer is always the same: “It’s hard enough being me—please don’t ask me to be someone else.” 

Another year without santa-sparkle eyes. Without the hearty laugh. Without the warm hugs. Knowing my words—“I understand”—were the last heard before leaving a real world too much to bear.

Maybe if we accepted others for who they are—when they’re true to themselves—the world would feel a bit more like a comfy pair of pink fluffy slippers.