And my reality? I saw a Grandma get thrown at a intersection by a car coming around the corner. He had a green light - and so did she - and he kept going. Two gals got his plates, car make and model. But what the hell? I so wish I could tell you that this was the first time i saw this THIS YEAR. I feel that I take my and my son's life in my hands as I drive around. Pedestrians that feel they can step off the curb at any time. Cars that are double and triple parked. Drivers blowing through red lights and stop signs, disregarding sirens and school buses, driving the wrong way down the street and on the sidewalk, three-abreast on a single-lane street. Forget about using signals, as a problem, that is small change.
After all this can you imagine what I said when asked if I considered it a blessing that my child was autistic? YES! And I replied without hesitation. James didn't understand when I was sick, helping me to get up and going when I thought I couldn't. He acknowledged and waved at the driver who wanted us to get out of his way, humbling the idiot. He does not know racism, and was oblivious to the stares, as I read "Black Like Me" in the library over and over again because so many of those he loves are black. He makes me remember to greet everyone, as it does not come naturally to him and I must provide good example. He makes me aware of the daily good in the world: the sudden ray of sunshine pouring through the window and its ability to warm your face, the wind blowing the leaves by and pushing at your body, the joy of speed as you suddenly experience a spurt of light-less highway, and the coolness of a glass on a warm day. And, most of all, he makes me keep going when I want to hide under the covers. I do not fail to respond to the request of "Up-a" from a little boy who doesn't have many words.
