And To Think Of Sunday

Owen stood at the end of the couch, with his tablet on the arm. I was on the other couch, sitting, reading. At the top of his lungs, and for more seconds than I can count, he starts yelling “stop”. And he didn’t stop until he ran out of air. My house sits maybe fifteen feet, or so from my neighbors. All my neighbors know my son has autism, and they all know he screams. One day my neighbor said, I’m sorry y’all had such a rough night. I remember that night, he screamed at the top of his lungs off, and on for two hours. Two hours. There was nothing I could do to calm him, stop him, or distract him. And what kept me up, I’m sure kept the whole neighborhood up. Voices carry, especially in the middle of the quiet, night air. This is where I think of my fellow families that live in apartment complexes, or other type homes. Knowledge is the first step to love, compassion, and understanding. My emotions run high some days thinking about everything. Owen doesn’t always understand the meaning of words, like most kids, but he can’t process why he shouldn’t say certain words that he may learn, or even in certain situations. He plays a game that one of characters sets booby traps, and he has to solve problems to get out of them. Well, his new thing is to say “booby steps” as he is walking on, or off, the bus. He has a whole song, and delayed dance on each one of the steps as he says it. Sometimes throwing himself down on the steps, thinking this is the greatest thing ever. Me, well, in the grand scheme of life, you gotta laugh. His smile, that gets me through the booby traps of life. I look at life differently now, trying to focus more on the positive side. Everybody’s got something, and together we can work together to change the world. Smiles to all and donut daze!