Colors Turned to Gray

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see. ~ Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

As I sat in the preschool room waiting for the different “disciplines” that had assessed my son at the age of 4 ½, I took note of the different colors and items that adorned this classroom. On the walls there were all the primary colors painted. One red wall, one blue, one yellow, one green. There was miniature furniture in the room, small tables and chairs ~ perfect sizing for children ~ the chairs were also color coordinated with walls, blue, green, yellow and red. Small cubby holes to store back packs and shoes as you walked in the door. Along the walls there were aspiring artist’s work displayed, with bright colors and imagination running throughout the drawings. Many windows surrounded the classroom, making a bright cheerful atmosphere~ a person almost need not turn on lights from natural brightness in the room from the sun. Trees swayed outside the windows and you could see birds nesting, hear the birds chirping. What a nice place to have your child spend time everyday. Having time to make friends, learn and participant in such a cheerful environment, I thought to myself, this is comforting to me, knowing that my son is in such a wonderful place.

 

I was soon joined in the room by the school therapist, the teacher, and the school psychologist. I thought this was standard practice, as he was new to the school environment. We gathered at one of the art tables that was two put together to form an octagon. It was a bit uncomfortable sitting in the miniature chairs, but I was anxious to hear how wonderful my son was ~ as I knew he was. The meeting began with all the formalities, signing for participation, introductions and thanks for attending the meeting. As the meeting began, the teacher, the therapist and the psychologist relayed to me a message… “your son has Autism”. Silence fell over me, fell over the room. The colors on the walls disappeared. The sounds of birds chirping vanished. The blood drained from my face. “What?” I asked in a tone that was “please clarify what you mean”. That has to be wrong I thought, wondering if they had evaluated the right child.

 

These people who hardly had spent anytime with my son, are telling me that he has a disability?? How could they know that?? My son is fine, I thought. There is nothing wrong with my baby. As I began to attempt to gain some composure, my mind was reeling with questions, and anger, and an unknowing that I didn’t even know where to begin. I asked for further explanation, “How can that be”? “What do you mean?” “What is Autism?” My questions came from nothing more than the reaction to their statement. All I could see was gray and these people that were in front of me, next to me, became this blur of talking white lights. I fought back the tears. "Not my baby" is all I could think. Why him? He has already had a difficult life, my leaving his father after I could no longer tolerate a drug addiction. Raising my son as a single mom, my nearest family 2000 miles away. No help from anyone. Struggling everyday to ensure all his needs were met, that I took the time to be his mom, in spite of a hectic work schedule and doing everything on my own. I always thought my son’s lack of communication was simply from the fact that we were mom and son, and I just knew what he wanted. The “team” of therapists and teachers informed me that my son’s cognitive level was that of an 18 month old child. That his speech was that of 8 months, and that he socially isolated himself from the rest of the groups or the class. They told me that during “group time” that he had to be held in circle in order to get him to participate, otherwise he would wander off to the same toy over and over, and play. They said there is no “expressive language”. They said he had functional limitations physically, like his mind wouldn’t let him run, his legs actually wouldn’t bend, for riding a bike, or running. He was unable to properly use a fork or a spoon.

 

I don’t remember to this day, what they told me after that. I was in shock. Then fear. I remembered going to my car in the parking lot of the school, and sitting in it and just sobbing. Crying, everything a blur, tears streaking my face as I realized I needed to get away from that school. Everything was gray and hazy. I drove the back streets afraid I would wreck. Everything was the same shade of gray, only spotted here and there with black or white no sound could be heard. I had to go get my son from daycare. I didn’t know where to start. What to do. How to handle this disability “autism” , let alone knowing WHAT autism was. How would I ever deal with this on my own? How am I to handle a disabled child when I have no one to help me? My heart was breaking, I hurt for my child, that he would be looked at differently than everyone else. Gray ~ everything was gray.

 

When I arrived at daycare, I wiped the tears from my eyes. I tried to look like everything was okay ~ like all was just another normal day. I walked to the door, when I opened it… there was the sunlight again. There were all the colors of the world in the smile of my son’s face. He ran to me and hugged my legs. My heart smiled the brightest shade of yellow for happiness, and the deepest shade of red for the love I had for my son. Here is my baby. My son. Who has an innocence that isn’t clouded with gray. Who has the brightest smile that the sun couldn’t compare with. Whose laughter sounds better than anything in my world. Here is my son. MY SON. Not my “disabled son“. Not my “son with autism“. He is just my son. At that moment I knew, we would be ok. We would survive. At that moment I realized the color of gray may be a darkened sky… but the smile and love from my child will brighten any and every day.

Author's Note

Punctuation is not a necessity... it is the point of the story... overcoming a challenge, viewing it as an opportunity to learn about autism, and the gift that my son has always been, and always will be.

Reviews

[Goddessa]

Again you bring tears to my eyes. That smile and that love from your son, how wonderful to see that through it all. They are such a gift to us. How wonderful that you see the colors through the grey.

I loved the use of colors are symbolism in this story. Very nicely done.