The kid held his foot and began to sing as his cut bled into socks and white shoe : 10 years old, maybe less,
autism had its’ way of keeping him quiet and alert at the same time. I cannot remember his name, there were 15 others on that yellow bus to school outskirts of the city. At that time it felt like the pits for me to go there every single morning till noon, sometimes evening, helping out with one or two kids in trouble- at that time I did not, could not think where this was leading. The path to something new, even lovable, is not always cast with rose and lavender. People are not always kind, even those in charge of Humanities, one can be sorely sorely taken advantage of, misunderstood to the core of their little toes ! It is a few years down that road, I’ve had time to understand that life isn’t all about what people think, or even what happens to people ; it is just the way things unfold and what we do with what is dealt our way.
No I cannot remember the kid’s name ; he had cut his knee and they said he sang when it hurt. He did not know anything about tears and howling. He sang when it hurt, so he sat there rocking every which way he could, his round little face puckered up in a song. A high pitched song with out words, like laughter. Like laughter has no pause or Caps or comma. Just sang there and sang till the cut began to sober up.
I remembered him today – December makes you remember the best things in life, and the worst aha. But the best always always survives. Excels…