The other day, I went bowling with my church friends, we were ten, including moi. We met a wonderful family there, they were invited by one of our church members. They were a family of four: mom, pop, an eleven year old girl and a boy. The girl was so beautiful and well spoken; a dancer. I couldn’t believe she was only eleven. We talked about dance technique; chasses and ronde de jambes. It was the most intellectual conversation I had that night.
Then I caught a glimpse of the boy, the cutest kid. Tall and skinny, like Dan, soft brown hair, also like Dan, I asked his mom how old he was, he was eight, just like Dan. So, I caught a glimpse. A glimpse of what Dan might sound and move like if he didn’t have autism. This boy was funny and witty, I could imagine Dan being like that. He spoke fast and had the cutest expressions; I could imagine Dan speaking like that…and for that second, I could feel tears begin to well up. But just for a second. As quickly as these feelings came, they left. They left with the thought of my sweet Dan.
Dan and I had the most amazing time, earlier that very day. We had a wonderful water play session in our back yard and I remembered his smile, the sheer joy over his face and body playing with the water; his chuckles and laughs. Later on, I remembered his touch, leading me to the sofa, so I could tickle and massage him. I remembered Dan, my son, his face, his laugh, his gaze, his smile, and in that moment, I did not want him to be anyone else. That beautiful boy I had met in the bowling alley had his own name (which I actually forgot now) and his own life, and his own face.
He was him and Dan was Dan
and he is mine and
I love him for who he is.
At this time in my life, I would not recognize Daniel if he talked and stood still.This doesn’t mean that we don’t aim for this and work hard so he can be the best he can be, but at this time, it’s not him and I want him to be him. I want Dan.
So I caught a glimpse of what Dan might have been and I looked away, content.
*Vintage post from 2015