Must have been eight or nine years old, in Saskatoon. Encountered neighbourhood boy born with one arm, and a short stump for the other.
Asked him if he ever wished he had two arms.
He said he had always been the way he was, and so didn’t know any other way, or miss anything.
Larger life lessons.
Knowing one is different doesn’t necessarily lead to a desire to be the same.
Conformity as appearance, not substance.
Some not fitting the suit, without regret, and with substance.