This I believe
I believe in Justin, my beautiful middle child with a penchant for walking on his toes and flapping his arms when excited.
I believe one day he will be able to talk to me, to tell me what he wants and needs. I await the time when he asks me for a much needed kiss. I yearn for the demand of a bedtime story, “ An exciting pirate story where the good guy wins, mom”. The chance to listen to him retell a crazy dream from the night before.
I see glimpses of my son from behind the autism mask and I miss him. Always the happy child, ( with bright, sparkling eyes and the cutest laugh that doesn’t show itself often enough), I wonder what he thinks of, where his mind is. I long to be allowed to enter his world, to understand how he interprets life, family, me.
I believe that one day he will play with his siblings like other children. I envision him playing catch with his little brother or tugging at his older sisters’ hair just to torment her. I see him popping wheelies on his bike, and then coming to me with a scraped knee because it hurts.
I believe he will have scores of friends, sitting up all night in a tent with the flashlight on trying to scare one another. I picture him and his friends chasing lizards in the backyard and then yelling as its tail breaks off.
I can visualize these ‘moments in time’ as clearly as I can see this computer screen. I know these things could one day be a reality. I can see the potential and know I am able to help him unlock what lies below the surface.
I see my son as my other children; smart, good, and loving. I see from ‘mother eyes’, a blind eye to the developmental delays, for my eyes only look for my child beneath hoping for that glimmer I know is there.
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