03/06/2026
I thought it was a place for old people.
The building looked the part. A large older home next to my friend’s house. Large colorful waste containers lined up by the road. No attempt to hide them. A sign out front announcing the name of the home and the organization that ran it.
Everything about it suggested a retirement facility.
I never asked about it.
It wasn’t my sector.
Not really my interest.
For years I parked beside it when visiting my friend. Walked past the building. Didn’t give it a second thought.
Then recently he told me a story.
He had gotten to know a woman who lived there. She has Down syndrome. She’s in her forties. One day she knocked on his door because her iPad wasn’t working. He welcomed her in and fixed the problem.
The next day she was back.
The iPad, apparently, had stopped working again, and then again and again.
It doesn’t take long to recognise a story you’ve heard before.
The iPad didn’t need fixing.
Loneliness did.
I asked him if he had any other interaction with people who lived there.
“No,” he said, all he knows is that it is a home for people with intellectual disabilities.
But he told me something else. Recently he’d stopped by the home to let staff know that his son was having a party. There might be some noise late in the evening. He wanted them to know they could call him if it got too loud. He left his phone number.
Their reply?
“Oh don’t worry. Everyone here is whacked out on nighttime medication and in bed by nine. They won’t hear a thing.”
I keep thinking we’re progressing.
I keep thinking things are changing.
Sometimes I wonder whether our support of campaigns like Stay Up Late are still as necessary as they used to be. Whether we still need to talk about rights, about inclusion, about loneliness in the same way we always have. Then I hear stories like this.
And I’m reminded.
Yes.
We do.
Because in far too many places, it’s still exactly like this.
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ID: Text reads: Is anything changing? Image shows: a person looking at the camera with a sad look on their face.