I want so much for this boy, above all, to just be understood.
I don’t care if he finds his voice through a device, or a drawing, I just want him to be heard.
A boy who was built differently than most.
Whose words get lost while intention and thoughts remain.
One who fights daily to just be calm in his body and peaceful in his mind.
His favorite color is red, though he’s never once told me this. I just know.
I also know that he’ll tolerate wearing blue, but only on some days.
Sometimes the world is too much for a boy who feels everything.
So, we’ll have to change the world.
He listens, even when he doesn’t respond.
He knows, even though he may not say.
I want his laugh to be shared and his efforts to be acknowledged.
This boy who jumps and jumps to share the pure joy radiating through his body.
I want people to see that.
The jumping and the joy.
The blue shoes.
Being his mom means listening to a million things that are not said. Or trying to.
I am trying to listen.
Please, try to listen with me.