I suppose I should start with the usual, Dear or even Dearest. It seems so inane as you must know it is embedded with each and every touch, kiss, caress, hug, smirk and and yes, even the admonishments;)
You turn 10 on Tuesday. Ten years, a decade, and so much has happened in that decade. I would wager you have lived a hundred years in that time compared to any "typical" 10 year old. In the end only you can really know that. The last 10 years I have been your willing and bombastic sidekick to your superhero; and what an awesome hero you have become.
You were born on a Thursday in Washington DC, in a sense the centre of your own nation. Thursday's child. According to the rhyme you had far to go... and little did we know just how far you had to travel. It is a journey that we all embark upon from the day of our birth, but few come so far as you and those like you, the odds are often insurmountable; so much so, many (and some have done) give up as your voyage has been fraught with chasms, tunnels, a veritable array of peaks and valleys. The valleys envelope oh so often, no wonder we wanted to give up; to insist this is good enough. Yet, each and every time, you were there to prove us wrong, to prove me wrong. Sometimes the shadow I thought I was dissolving into was in fact you, casting your soul, willing me on, silently, insistent and expectant.
Tuesday, you turn 10. Such a long way from the day your kindergarden teacher, who truly meant well, asked if I slept at night wondering about your teen years? What would she say now, to the funny, imaginative and articulate boy that sleeps peacefully beneath his weighted blanket adorned with flying rainbow zebras and pegasus'. The same boy that last week made merit roll for academic achievement. The same boy that earned student of the month for his kindness and willingness to share.
Yes, you have autism, but it doesn't have you. I can only imagine the next 10 years my darling. Please, may I hop on that roller coaster too, but only if you promise to hold my hand.
J, thank you for being the light when I am in shadow. On Tuesday you will be 10.
You turn 10 on Tuesday. Ten years, a decade, and so much has happened in that decade. I would wager you have lived a hundred years in that time compared to any "typical" 10 year old. In the end only you can really know that. The last 10 years I have been your willing and bombastic sidekick to your superhero; and what an awesome hero you have become.
You were born on a Thursday in Washington DC, in a sense the centre of your own nation. Thursday's child. According to the rhyme you had far to go... and little did we know just how far you had to travel. It is a journey that we all embark upon from the day of our birth, but few come so far as you and those like you, the odds are often insurmountable; so much so, many (and some have done) give up as your voyage has been fraught with chasms, tunnels, a veritable array of peaks and valleys. The valleys envelope oh so often, no wonder we wanted to give up; to insist this is good enough. Yet, each and every time, you were there to prove us wrong, to prove me wrong. Sometimes the shadow I thought I was dissolving into was in fact you, casting your soul, willing me on, silently, insistent and expectant.
Tuesday, you turn 10. Such a long way from the day your kindergarden teacher, who truly meant well, asked if I slept at night wondering about your teen years? What would she say now, to the funny, imaginative and articulate boy that sleeps peacefully beneath his weighted blanket adorned with flying rainbow zebras and pegasus'. The same boy that last week made merit roll for academic achievement. The same boy that earned student of the month for his kindness and willingness to share.
Yes, you have autism, but it doesn't have you. I can only imagine the next 10 years my darling. Please, may I hop on that roller coaster too, but only if you promise to hold my hand.
J, thank you for being the light when I am in shadow. On Tuesday you will be 10.
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