Our trip to New York City was full of high points, but I have to say that the best moment came when Sophie met Leo.

I walked into a busy restaurant, looked around, and suddenly, this little boy I’ve been reading about almost every day for months leapt off the computer screen and into real life, before my eyes.

Sophie ran right up to him for a hug. (Contrary to popular misconceptions about people with Down syndrome, she doesn’t do that with everyone.)

I felt the tears well up even before I could take my coat off.

I need to back up. This will sound horrible, but there’s no way of saying it without just saying it (and somehow, reader, I bet you’ll relate).

I’m not a Support Group Kinda Girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with support groups. In fact, there’s a lot of good — and I know I’m missing out by avoiding the two (I might add warring — I do love that part — at least they were warring at one point not long ago) Down syndrome support groups in Phoenix.

I know. I know I know I know I know. But that whole thing’s just not for me. Maybe it’s because I live where I was born. I am incredibly blessed with family and friends and all sorts of resources (like a kindergarten teacher who continues to look out for Sophie even now that she’s in first grade, and plays a mean game of poker in her off time) to help us navigate all sorts of situations.

Even so, I didn’t realize something was missing — til I found it. The thing is, just because you have something in common with someone (say you’re both journalists, or both Jewish, or both obsessed with rick rack and vintage toys and certain kid books/movies/music, or both think way too much about things like where you live, or both have kids with Down syndrome), that doesn’t mean you’ll wind up friends.

Now, if you have all of those things in common and more, yeah, then it might happen.

That’s Maya.

I’ve written about Maya before, including on the occasion of a trip I took to New York last summer, when I got to meet her. (In person, that is — rather than on her blog. We had lunch by her office on a work day, hence no Leo.)

And I’ve said this before, but in honor of meeting Leo (and the fact that his parents schlepped him and his 2 and a half year old sister from New Jersey on a truly horrible day to meet us) I need to say again that starting a blog was a Really Important Thing for me not only because it gave me the ability to go on (and on and on — and on) about Sophie, but because it led me to some pretty terrific people. My (frankly) arm’s length suport group, including Robert Polk (who lives in Texas and has an adult son, Ryan, with DS, and goes by Bobby but will forever be RobertPolk to me) and Joyce and Sarah, and Cate and Starrlife.

And Maya.

Technically, Sophie’s an older woman (she’s got almost a year on Leo) but he towers over her, and we all thought they made a lovely couple. They ate scrambled eggs, french fries and ice cream, colored, and played with Leo’s sister Ellie. Sophie showed off her new life-like “Fur Real” guinea pig, which I think is really gross but Leo and Ellie appreciated. (Ray and Annabelle were at The Met with his aunt; I was concerned about another foot-through-the $180 million-Picasso incident with Sophie, so it was a good time to split up.)

We had a wonderful brunch and hung out at a bookstore and when Sophie and I said goodbye and settled into a cab, the song “Goodbye Girl” was playing and I had another cry — an I Heart New York But I Don’t Live Here cry, thinking about that movie, which is one of the movies that made me fall in love with New York when I was a kid — and I thought, I bet this song makes Maya cry, too.