Wings
Wings Two years ago, we started taking the bus with Kende, when he was in seventh grade. At times like this, I would come down the hill on my son’s scooter, because buses hardly run around here either, but most of the time I would hitch a ride with the first car that...
Seventeen years
Seventeen years Seventeen years. Not just any seventeen years. As if it had been thirty-four—or even more. As if the wheel of time had turned differently. As if it hadn’t all happened within a single lifetime. As if it hadn’t even happened to me. Seventeen years ago,...
And now?
And now? After giving my child a proper talking-to the other day, he has finally understood that Mom isn’t always available. It was about time—he’s sixteen! So yesterday I told him: I’ll be at the doctor’s, please don’t keep calling me like you usually do. Only call...
Are You Free Now?
Are You Free Now? For years now, I haven’t been able to carry a conversation through without Kende interrupting. No matter how many times I say, “Wait a moment,” or “I can’t talk right now,” or “You need to wait until I’m finished,” it makes no difference. He keeps...
The Guru Was Right
The Guru Was Right The guru once said that this girl would be “more or less okay” by the age of 16–17. She’s eighteen now, and I can confidently say: she really is. Of course, she’s still autistic—but that was never the goal. She is whole, complete, and wonderfully...