Ever since Rojo turned 15 and got a cell phone, he's discovered a whole new independence. Kathleen also gave him a bike no one was using at their house, and of course he did his usual buck-buck-buck-embrace dance he always does, just like he did with the cell phone.
"I don't want a cell phone. I don't want to learn to text."
"I don't want a new bike. I will ride my old bike. I am not getting a new bike."
Blah, blah, blah and so it went for months until we slowly but surely won him over. Now he's a boy on a bike with a cell phone ALL the time. At times he's a naughty boy texting WHILE riding his bike, but he knows the wrath that shall be upon him if he's caught one more time doing that.
He has taken to riding over to the nearby school several times a day and seeing who's there. Sometimes there are friends, usually there are strangers, whom, to Rojo, are simply friends he hasn't made yet. He is big on talking to all the people throwing the ball for their dogs to catch. Flicka must have had all that trained out of her, because she does not like to run after a ball more than once. Rojo could throw it a hundred times and has discovered the joys of a Chuckit. He's become something of a regular, and can tell you everyone's name, their dog's name, which dogs are good and which ones are rambunctious, which ones listen to his commands and which ones need him to "train" them.
Some of the people he talks to over there I know, too. Some, I do not. There was a day I would have had lots of judgment about a mom that sends her special needs child out on his own, to do whatever it is he is doing. There may be some of that going on - probably is. And here's the thing: I no longer care (too much).
I'll tell you what kind of mother lets her now 15-year-old special needs son "wander" the neighborhood. One that is three doors down. One that comes by often to observe. One that has her cell phone attached to her at all times. One that trusts her son has guardian angels. One that believes in the goodness of her community. One that believes in the goodness of most humans. One that believes her son is an excellent judge of character. One that is ready to let him spread his wings just a little bit. One that is tired of being with him every second of every day.
That's who.
10 comments:
One that I adore.
:)
. . . and one who loves him so much she wants him to know independence and the delight of exploring on his own. I've been reading poetry today and some lines from e. e. cummings came to mind as I read about Rojo and the delight he takes in those dogs and people and the schoolgrounds: "i thank You God for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes" That's Rojo to me from reading your words. Thank you.
Love this, like I'm looking through a window to glimpse a slice of what life is now, a few years down the road. Great. How you've all grown. What a pleasure it is to imagine Rojo with his bike and cell and exploration, and you with air and all your tracking devices, seen and unseen, in tact. Miss you, Carrie. Love.
P.S. It's Prem :)
He's growing up and you're slowly letting go because even children with special needs grow up. Not to mention he seems to have guardian angels up the wazoo:)
I love you. And I remember exactly what this was like two years ago when Nigel started high school, started riding his bike to school, and got his first cell phone. And the years and years leading up to being able to get to that point. I'm so there with you. Love.
The kind that spent more time than you want to admit wondering if this day would ever happen. The kind that is simultaneously jealous of the mothers that did not worry about their child meeting this milestone and also feeling sorry for them that they will never know the awesome feeling of accomplishment. (If not you than I am thinking of me...)
Good!
For both of you.
And to hell with what anyone else thinks.
You need not justify.
And Rojo can come throw the ball for my dog a hundred times a day anytime he wants to. My arm is tired.
one who understand herself better than almost anyone!
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