kickabel

Sammy, when I dream of our future, I dream we are happy. I don’t dream that you are some miracle genius with some illustrious career and fame. I don’t dream you’re a hidden savant. I don’t dream you’re Temple or Raymond. I don’t dream for you to suddenly prove your worth in the eyes of bigots by fitting in their box. I don’t dream of you becoming more easily exploitable. And most importantly, I would rather die than watch you and your autism disappear one day and watch a stranger move in behind your face. I don’t want you to lose a single piece of yourself. I don’t want to lose a single piece of you. 

I don’t dream for you to “be able” to hold a job like that’s some determinant of human worth or quality of life. I dream we’ll live comfortably and you’ll never have to work a day in your life. But even still, I dream for you to be able to keep yourself safe if something happens to me one day. 

When I dream of our future, I dream for you to be able to communicate with any person you want to. I dream for you to express yourself in a way that is comfortable and not draining for you. I dream for you to feel that you are being heard. I dream for you to know that your thoughts, ideas, and feelings are being valued. 

When I dream of our future, I dream that I will succeed in teaching you how to read. I dream that your entire world pops open. I dream that you have access to all sorts of opportunities you don’t have now. I dream you can learn any new skill or hobby you want. I dream you can meet like-minded people. I dream you can read any story, and carry out any fantasy. 

When I dream of our future, I dream of you being more comfortable in our world. I dream that as you grow older, we find more and more coping mechanisms that help you find your own place in our physical environment. I dream that you can stim freely without a second thought. I dream that we find ways to accommodate any sensory issues you have. I dream that you can take your place and own it. I dream that you have more control.

I dream that I can spoil you and you can indulge in your special interests and collect all you want. 

I dream that we have a house and a pool where you can go swimming at midnight like you always want to. 

When I worry for our future, I pray we’ll have already equipped you with all the tools you need by the time we experience loss and grief. I want you to have a grasp of these key tools when we lose people. I want you to be able to talk to me when the time comes that we lose Eva or Olivia. I want you to be able to talk to me when we lose Mom and Dad. 

You and I are probably going to be the last ones left. I want you to be able to talk to me. I want to be what you need. I want to always have each other. 

I dream that you don’t get any taller than me than you already are now. You’ll always be my little sister, even if you’re a giant. 

I dream your echolalia never fully goes away and that you use it to tease me for the rest of our lives. 

I dream that your sense of humor never dies. 

I dream that I can still hear your laugh every day. 

I dream that I can still hear you squeal with glee no matter how old we grow. 

I hope you’ll always find yourself too happy for words to contain it. I hope it bleeds over into every other language we speak together. 

I dream that you’ll mock and make fun of me when we are old and wrinkly. 

I dream that we still say “I love you more,” back-and-forth ad infinitum with gray hair. 

I dream that these things never really go away. 

I dream that the strong bellow of your voice never weakens. 

I’ll never forget the sound of your footsteps.