‘Mama, how does Cooper dream?’
I have four kids. My two oldest are 13 and11.
Brothers.
Sawyer, my 11-year-old going on 17, doesn’t ask a lot of questions about autism anymore.
He doesn’t need too.
He understands his older brother.
He’s learned alongside all of us from the beginning.
He knows how to listen with more than his ears. He understands grunts and points and that flapping of the hands means happy.
He knows covering ears means excitement. And that his older brother needs help sometimes. He will always offer his hand in a parking lot and lead him across the street.
He once told me that Cooper feels like home to him.
He used to ask a lot of questions about autism. Back when he was little.
He wanted to know if autism would go away. And how his brother got it. He wanted to know why he didn’t talk. And so on. The questions would come in those sleepy moments before falling asleep and once when he realized that his brother was different than his friend’s older brother.
So, I was honestly a little surprised when a few days ago, he asked me if Cooper dreams in his own language. It’s been so long since he asked a question like that. One that makes my heart tingle.
They were sitting side-by-side in the backseat. Which is the cutest thing because they don’t need to sit side-by-side. They could have a seat in between. But they’ve always sat like this. Resting on each other.
‘Mama, how does Cooper dream? Does he dream with words like ours?’
Before I could answer he said…’what is his language? Is it…like ours?’
This was one of those moments. Those important ones. I did my best to explain.
‘He uses our language buddy. Cooper has words. All the same ones that we do. Most of them just stay inside his mouth. But they are there.’
And then I explained the beautiful ways Cooper communicates. And how when he does speak verbally, he chooses his words carefully. And he says each letter as if he’s plucking them out of the sky.
SS-AW-ER
Z-O-O
M-O-M
I saw the wheels turning, the little boy with the old soul processing. Trying to understand. So, he could explain it to someone else if asked. A future advocate.
‘What if he never talks mom?’
That question right there. The one I don’t have an answer too. The one that makes my stomach hurt.
We sat in silence for a few beats.
And then he said…
‘Oh, who cares. We will have our own language mom. Me and him. I’ll make it for us.’
Everyone needs a Sawyer. I’m more convinced of that every day.
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