PATCH
He views the world through an autistic kaleidoscope, endless shards of twisting colors, bright and dark, some empty. His sidelong glance says, “Will she ‘get’ me?” Fragile tendrils of hope reach out to connect. This boy. Patch. “Wicked smart”, a prisoner of his own perceptions.
People find him just plain odd. How to help him cope with his world? He’s so scared. I coach and cajole, probe into his fear with him, gently bring reality down, teach him to face deadlines and the adults who impose them. When he loses control during his unfinished accounting final and walks out, I drag him back downstairs to his classroom to tell his teacher what happened. Just a few minutes of compassionate “Attaboy’s” from this insightful teacher and Patch is launched. Close call!
I love his dry wit, the twinkle in his eye, his beautiful sense of the absurd. He can make me laugh on the worst days, and he knows it. As I help him cover his huge Brit Lit book with one of the Marine book covers (he hopes to join up someday), I belt out the Marines hymn, and he’s right there with me.
One day near Christmas we are singing “The 12 Days of Christmas”. When we get to the verse “Eight maids a milking”, he offers this observation…
“I could get into that!”
Who will understand this boy?
Who will watch the moon with him?