I Will Give Him a Magical Life
Last night something monumental happened in our little world.
Our middle son Sawyer had a gaggle of friends over playing and as they ran from room to room, crashing and bashing and giggling about farts and butts, our oldest son Cooper ran behind.
He was the oldest of the whole group on paper. The big brother and yet not. He will be 14 in a few months. But he has no interest in Fortnite or hockey or girls. He doesn’t acknowledge the coolest shoes or ask sliding mitts.
Never far. But never really near either. You can always hear him but not always see him. He may be under a bed or behind a couch or sprawled out on the top stair.
And even though he doesn’t play with kids, not typically, he teaches them about autism. About inclusion. And differences. Just by being himself. He teaches.
Last night was different though.
For hours he trailed behind the younger kids. He moved with them. Chased even. They all laughed and had fun together.
The purple dinosaur singing ‘I love you’ as they played.
I heard ‘Cooper get us’ and ‘MOM! Cooper keeps shutting the lights off on us.’
The thing I hoped and prayed for was happening.
And I peeked around the corner and saw his and their worlds expanding. And I vowed one thing to myself.
To give him a magical life. Forever. Despite his age. Despite his size. And when his shoes are bigger than mine and when his dad shaves his face.
To always surround him with people who love him. People who see him and adore him and greet him when they arrive and say goodbye when they leave.
I will scour old bookstores looking for train magazines and EBay for DVDs about the history of railroad.
I will roar like a lion and dance in the rain and make him a pirate costume out of purple fabric. We will go to zoos and waddle like penguins and make a spaceship out of cardboard boxes and blast off.
His birthday parties will be epic long after the age that most people have them. And Trick or Treating and waiting for Santa will never cease. I will keep this magic alive for him.
Because I know these children, his brother and his friends, are going to grow up and move on. And I don’t know if my yellow haired boy will go with them.
He may still be here with me and his dad. Asking to visit mermaid rock with Dora the Explorer.
I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know that I can gasp at airplanes and hunt for whales at our local pond for as long as he wants.
I can be his magic.
I will give him a magical life. I promise.
