The Future

Day 13:  The Future

As often as Coleman can be trying, I want to be sure it’s clear that far more often he is charming and funny and an absolute joy to be around.  I cherish those days, and wonder at the joy he finds in the simplest of things.  I pretend to be The Grumpy Old Troll from Dora the Explorer and he laughs harder than a college freshman watching Jimmy Fallon.  We draw Blue’s Clues pictures and he stares in amazement as our hands work together to form the pictures he is so familiar with.  We play ring-around-the rosy or simply watch as the kids play tag out front, and he jumps and shakes in pure delight.  And of course, he watches his many shows, laughing and singing along to the scripts he knows so well.  I love this all, love the innocence of his happiness, the joy of these simple things.  And these qualities are so amazing that they redeem him on even his toughest of days. 

Those that know Coleman well – mostly our family – know both the good and not-so-good sides of Coleman. They have seen him at his best and his worst, and they love him still.  He is very endearing, and wraps you around his little finger rather quickly.  He makes us all laugh and find humor in the silly things that he finds funny.  But all these silly things he does, all these innocent and quirky traits that make him who he is, also make me fear the future, wondering what will happen to my amazing little boy as he grows older?  What if what is adorable and charming now, as a child, turns to weird or odd as an adult?  What will his life be like in 10 years from now?  And worst of all, what if someone teases him, hurts him, bullies him because of who he is?  Among the many prayers I say, at the top of the list is the prayer that the parents of children today teach their children about decency.  I pray that no matter how strange Coleman may appear, that they have learned kindness and tolerance, and always treat him with care.  Each year I read stories online about classes that let the special needs child throw the winning touchdown, score the final basket, win Prom King  – Oh, how I pray that the children Coleman moves through school with are like this.  Not because of the notoriety, but because I deeply crave that protection for him.  That his peers take him under their wing, protect him like he is their own brother.  They can make all the difference. 

It’s hard to imagine Coleman at that place in the future.  I have a few friends who have sons with Autism.  Their boys are in their late teens/early 20’s.  It is nearly impossible for me to imagine Coleman like these boys.  It is just too big of a leap from where he is today.  They have come so far, it’s amazing.  I’m thrilled for the boys and their families.  But at the same time, I can’t help but think Coleman will never get there.  I want to believe it, I want to think that his future holds the same great things that these boys are achieving, but in my heart, I have so much doubt.  When I see these friends of mine, I want to beg them, please, look at Coleman, were your boys like him? Did they do what he does?  Did they script? How are they the same? How are they different?  But I don’t dare ask, mostly because if they said their boys were not at all like Coleman, I simply couldn’t take it.  In my eyes, their boys have done what seems impossible for Coleman, and if Coleman isn’t anything like they used to be…well, then maybe he never will be like they are now either.  And that is just too much to handle.  So I don’t ask, but instead I hold out hope, that Coleman will grow both physically and mentally into a contributing member of society.  He can be like those boys, I think.  He can.  He will.  Because the thought that this is as good as it gets for him is simply unacceptable. 

So we keep plugging away, trying to do what we can, trying to improve Coleman’s world, our world, little by little each day.  We learn as much as we can from his teachers who know his abilities.  We listen and incorporate strategies that his behaviorists have taught us.  Both are invaluable.  We seek out support and advice from others who have been in our shoes.  We search for new opinions by doctors, new ways of teaching, and new approaches to curing this growing world of Autism.   Most of all, we listen to our hearts.  Because this is our son, and no one loves him as much as we do.  No one wants his future to be brighter than we do.  No one will work as hard or as long as we will for a better future for him.  We know one thing.  We will not give up.  Tomorrow is a new day.