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One of my favorite friends has blue hair, sometimes green, three tattoos and a nose ring. She also is wheelchair-bound and a strict vegetarian. On the other hand, I am a blue-jeans wearing brunette who keeps earrings out of the baby's reach, is able-bodied and enjoys a good steak dinner. I marvel at how we became friends.

I confess that ordinarily, I shy away from people like her because we're so different. I'd assume we'd have nothing in common. We first met when we lived in the same condo complex and noticed that we both had kids. I remember when I first saw Trin. Her baby was strapped to her chest in a sling, and her toddler trailed behind her wheelchair. I felt sorry for them and figured she could use a friend, but I didn't think it would be me.

At first, we spoke only in passing. Then I began to look forward to hearing her daughter's timid knock on my second-story door. My daughter would scamper into the entry after seeing Trin waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Phoebe and her mommy are here! Quick, Mommy, open the door!" And so we'd chat—Trin in her wheelchair and me on the bottom step while our kids played together. She's extremely intelligent and witty—things I am drawn to in a friend. Our talks always left me in a better mood.

As I got to know Trin better, I learned she was active with her kids, regularly taking them on bus excursions all over the Seattle area. We often traded babysitting. And I sometimes braved riding the bus with my four children in order to join her in an outing. I vividly remember one summer trip to the park. It was a hot August day for Seattle. We managed to keep the excited bunch of kids from being squashed by a bus while we waited for our bus to arrive. My kids watched the wheelchair-lift process with rapt attention and then scrambled aboard, racing to window seats. With a hiss and a jerk, we were off and Trin and I got lost in swapping our latest mom stories.

"Mommy," her daughter interrupted, "I think we missed our stop." Sure enough, we had forgotten to pull the cord at the right time and needed to get off at the next stop. Bummer. The next stop was at the bottom of a steep hill—one we had to climb in 80-degree weather. As my kids and I puffed up the hill, they whined about the heat and the distance. I quietly reminded them that this was a one-time inconvenience for us. For my friend and her kids, it was a regular part of life.

Over the years, Trin and I have shared the joys and challenges of raising kids. She is determined to live life to the fullest capacity according to her capability. I have learned a lot from her about not letting obstacles get in the way of life. And now I celebrate our differences instead of being afraid of them.

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