Unicorns, all.

Over two years ago I went out with a dear friend and got another tattoo.

It was a little green unicorn, sketched on my wrist over a tiny "Ohm" symbol.
A unicorn, designed together with a wonderful ink artist and yogi friend, inspired by a bucket-list  meeting with my favorite young adult fantasy author. He has been my heart's mentor as a writer since I first discovered his novels and short stories in middle school. Meeting him met all my wildest pre-adolescent writer's dreams;  he embodied his writer's soul in person just as I hoped and always knew he would.

So I got a sweet, little unicorn with a green mane on the new, basic-girl trendy spot:the inside of my left wrist.

The first client that I saw after it had healed was one of my favorite long term clients who is a young lady with autism.  In my practice I work with kids in different environments and build skills in their real worlds. Sometimes that looks like therapy in a child's home, in a school, or out in the community.

That day my sweet client and I were hiking around a lake for our therapy session. Working on endurance, problem solving, and of course, processing social conundrums. The trail was almost dry but there were enough roots, mud, rocks and uphill to keep our eyes busy on the trail while we talked --which is sometimes so much better at getting real talking done than sitting and staring at each other.

Movement gives us time to process, increases our breathing, and builds confidence and strength away from screens. Following a map, learning hiking and trail etiquette provides great skills for everyday life navigation in other settings. Getting dirt on our shoes requires flexibility in thinking and coping with anxiety and rigid thoughts. Learning when to push and when to rest also takes practice. Being outdoors is healing for the body and soul.
In short, hikes outdoors can be pretty magical and productive sessions.

On this one, my little friend noted my tattoo right away, "Oh, is that real?" She said. I confirmed that it was and she was appropriately impressed; "Forever?"
"Yup, It will never come off." (much to my father's dismay, I thought but did not say)
"Do you want to know why I got it? Who it is and what it means to me?" I asked her.
"Yes"

I pointed to the uni, then to her and said, "It's you, This reminds me of you, every day."

Her eyes widened for a beat, and she looked a little shocked and maybe a little appalled that her therapist had gotten a tattoo of a random unrelated mythical animal representing her.  I mean we adore each other and have an awesome long-term therapist/patient relationship but I could see her thinking, that's sort of creepy, Joanna.

 I went on to explain as the hill became steep,  "This helps me focus on what I'm doing with my life and why I'm doing it. It's like all my kids, both the ones I work with, and my own sons, it reminds me of how special and magical you all are."

"Oh, okay", she began to relax as we stepped over some roots and the trail narrowed. We moved carefully, like a doe and fawn, single file in between fir trunks;
"Watch out for those wobbly rocks, there, look where I place my feet." I said, We were silent for a bit, navigating.

After we found our pace again I said, "Tell me what you know about unicorns. What makes them special?"

"Well, " she said, after a pause to move a branch. "They are friendly, and nice, soft, and pretty."

"True. True." I agreed, waiting, hoping, heart racing for her to get to the good part where she was supposed to say:
 "Oh, Joanna! They are the embodiment of wonder and magic and love and vulnerability in pure nature that exists in the sometimes mean, scary world and they still manage to stay magic and love even when the world sucks and doesn't get them.
And not everyone can see their magic, you have to LOOK and want to find them.--They are us, dude, US! " 
Then we could high-five and giggle about how cool we are to get these things while other people didn't.

Weirdly though, she did not say that. There was silence.

I waited.

She continued matter of fact-ly;  "And they make good friends and sometimes they fly...and sometimes they are fluffy."

"Fluffy?!"  I thought, 
"Fluffy!? That's not what I'm going for here. Oh shit. What have I just permanently put on my wrist? A meme from a Minion movie!? What the hell was I thinking?"

Then after another beat I thought: "Crap. Do I even KNOW any fluffy unicorns?"

We hiked in silence for a few minutes, me listening to the scrub jays openly mocking my stupidity.

Then I realized: "Why yes. Yes I do. I can think of three right off the top of my head. Dan's middle school Special Education teacher, for one, is a fluffy, wondrous, sweet unicorn herself. She also should be classified as glittery. A person who shines from within and brings magic to a classroom that others see as hopeless. A teacher who shows Julia Child videos and makes Chicken Cordon Bleu from scratch with her students. Fun, Fearless. Sparkly and a great, motherly hugger; A Fluffy Unicorn."

"Oh ho! I said, you are right! Unicorns don't have to be all angsty and mystical, They can be fluffy. How wonderful."

"Uh huh." She said.

In that moment we hit a patch of sunlight on the trail and stopped. I was suddenly hit with a wave of gratitude and realization that she was so, so wise and I had so much to learn. I was limiting my unicorns again. Not just the fairy-tale ones, but the people they represented to me. She was so right. I hadn't seen them at all through her eyes, yet I had tried to define her with them. I'm so dumb sometimes I miss my own symbolism if I don't hang around people who point out how one-dimensional I'm being.

"This is the best conversation I've ever had, in my entire life, here at the top of the trail, surrounded in beauty, with this little person who is unconsciously confirming that I'm learning what I am supposed to be learning, by just being herself. "

"Wow, " I said. "I hadn't thought about that. Thanks!"

"Yeah." She said. Silence except for our breathing as we ascended the highest point of the trail.

I still felt like I needed to explain, although she didn't ask. " I call people unicorns when they are extra special; Rare, Magical, Beautiful. Like you. Like my sons, who may not be seen as magical by everyone.
The kids I work with and live with, well, they look or act different on the outside, and not everyone gets how magical they are, but for me, it's awesome to be with them, every day. They teach me so much about magic and being exactly who you are.

But some lucky people see all the magic that you have inside you. And it's pretty amazing. Not everyone can see a unicorn, you know, your magic can be hidden from the rest of the world sometimes."

"So I put it on my wrist to remember that when I get tired, or distracted, or sad. You, and all the other unicorns I know make me happy.  And the other unicorns that can see you for who you are, well they might just be the fluffy ones. The ones who want to find the magic!"

 "Hmm, yeah. That's neat." She mumbled, clearly not as jacked up about this revelation as I was.

We hiked on in silence for a while, panting a little, slowing, concentrating on descending a slippery part of the trail
"I love hiking with you." I said.

"Yes. This is fun." She said. Then brightening:  "Also, Joanna, last night I ate two new kinds of foods with Grandma and Grandpa, and I LIKED them!"
"Oh my gosh, really?" I said, "what were they?..."

We finished the loop around the small lake in an hour, talking of her little sister conflicts, food jags and finally the OT homework of the week; to try a new fruit and rate it from 1-10.

I often look at my wrist and remember that day.

She so gracefully defined herself without knowing it: The embodiment in her mind of what is good, as if she were the mythical beast of dreams and rainbows, but with simple, concrete words.

Friendly, nice, fluffy, soft. A good friend.
I added magical, beautiful, full of wonder, rare and hard for everyone to recognize.

I am incredibly grateful to carry her and all of them with me, embedded in my skin --and heart-- for always.