I have to admit to feeling slight trepidation last spring when Peter came home talking about his verybestfriendinthewholewideworld. I was skeptical at best. I wasn’t entirely sure he knew what a friend was. If it’s hard to understand the concept of friendship at 32, imagine what it’s like at 3.
I didn’t press the subject. I honestly didn’t want to know too much. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Maybe I sold him a little short too. Maybe I couldn’t imagine that a friendship could be reciprocal, or even functional, he was only three – and Autism so cruelly prevents him from interpreting social cues.
But every day, every-single-day, he’d talk about her (yes, HER) and as the weeks progressed he began to share more and more about their daily interactions. I began to appreciate this amazingly huge milestone for what it was – a gift.
His verybestfriendinthewholewideworld’s name is Clara. She’s tiny, unassuming, with gorgeous brown eyes, and when you put the two of them together they are capable of all kinds of hijinks. The cute pre-K kind, of course.
It just so happened that they shared a birthday month. Naturally, both Taureans.
Her mom, Evonne, and I planned the classroom party for May. I instantly wanted to be her best friend. She was/is just that cool. She writes beautifully, she’s honest, compassionate, real and disarming. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.
I didn’t share with Evonne that Peter had been talking about Clara incessantly for weeks. I don’t know why, perhaps again I was worried I’d be disappointed were I to find out his first verybestfriendinthewholewideworld had never mentioned him.
But then I found a note in Peter’s mailbox one day at pick up inviting him to Clara’s birthday party. She had only invited two friends from school and Peter was one of them. I admit my initial reaction was to breathe an audible sigh of relief – what with our kid having scored an invite to a “typical” kid’s party and all. I know that sounds shallow. But it’s a big deal for us parents of children with special needs.
Thus a friendship was forged. After school let out for the summer, we braved Chuck E. Cheese with Evonne, Clara and her older sister Anna. In July, Clara became really ill with appendicitis and Peter asked if could go see her in the hospital. It was one of those moments as a mother that remind you how amazing kids can be. I recognized then that maybe my child knew more about friendship than many adults do.
When school started this year Clara and Peter were two of three returning students from last year’s class. I wondered if with all the new kids they would still be verybestfriendsinthewholewideworld but they didn’t miss a beat.
In our sporadic emails Evonne and I tried our best to arrange a playdate – around soccer, and therapy, and everything else.
A few weeks ago we finally got it together.
As we sat watching Peter, Clara and Anna playing together at a local playground we discussed the friendship and Autism.
Evonne told me that Clara had recently informed her that she was going to marry Peter.
Adorable, right?
I asked whether Clara knew that Peter had Autism. Peter doesn’t know he has Autism. Even though he’s probably heard the word far too many times. Clara knows though, and she has such a remarkable understanding and empathy about it.
Clara had, in fact, told Evonne not to worry because “Peter won’t have anymore Autism when he’s a teenager. He hardly has any left now, Mama.”
My eyes blurred with tears. I struggled to focus on their playground interactions, and I fought back the urge to think too far forward. To imagine 5, 10, 20 years from now…what Autism will mean. Because the rest of us know that it won’t really ever go away.
The wisdom a four year can possess, in it’s most pure and unbiased form is absolutely astounding to me. The hope/expectation that, if we fight hard enough, if we are patient enough, and if there are enough Clara’s in the world – that a child with Autism can aspire to the same future as any other child. It’s such a simple wish. Realistically it may not happen for every single child – but it can be our hope, our goal, our trajectory. If we can all be as accepting as Clara, it could be more of a reality.
I don’t think I could say it any better than she did with a thousand words.
I hope that Peter has Clara as his verybestfriendinthewholewideworld forever and always.
(Thank you to Evonne and Dan for sharing their amazing family with us – and for their amazing work in parenting compassionate and open-minded children).
<3
What a wonderful story. I don’t even know how much Moe clues in to other kids that much yet, but I do hope that he will soon know the powerful of a wonderful friend.
Oh Jen, I believe he will. For the longest time I didn’t think that Peter even noticed other kids (and you know, maybe he didn’t). Even when he began to seek engagement it was primarily with adults and older children. The blended classroom has been such a blessing. I honestly didn’t realize all that he was capable of until we took that huge leap of faith.
What a beautiful story. I am so proud of my family. I wish this story would be shared with many.
Kathy,
Thank you for sharing your family with ours. You have every right to be proud. They are amazing.
Oh my God. I would have dissolved into a puddle right there. Wow. Clara is awesome. My heart is in my throat. Huge squeezy hugs.
Clara is awesome. So are you, my friend.
This is such a beautiful and charming post. I am so glad Evonne pointed me your way; your writing is gorgeous, too.
Thank you, Linda. Truth is I get more out of writing than I could ever give. It’s my most selfish and cathartic vice.
Heartwarming story. I hope that my son finds a Clara–aka verybestfriendinthewholewideworld.
The good news is that there are still more Clara’s in the world than not. Children are still pure in spirit and in love. Hang in there.
Yep, it was a tear jerker. I also have a son who is 3 years old and has autism, he does not talk. I hope that one day he will also be able to tell me about his verybestfriendinthewholewideworld, too :,-)
Some of Peter’s very first (and even still) best friends were his toys. He loves Sesame Street and to this day carries them all around the house “playing” with them. Even before he could talk I knew that he recognized the power of friendship. It’s so wonderful when you can see it reciprocated – and you will – I believe that.
I raised an orphan from age 7 to age 9 1/2 (he is 14 now), as a foster child. He is also blind – but he was exhibiting many of the autism spectrum conditions, because no one had explained his environment at all for 7 years. When I brought him home, they gave me a stack of diapers and a bottle. He was not potty trained and could not eat properly and was not speaking at all. I was angry inside. There is a lot to be said for treating someone normally. For this little boy, after 6 months, he was becoming more and more independant in his life skills, he began to speak and (then we had to work on being a bit more polite!), but I found that anyone who was willing to treat him the same as anyone else – he flourished in their presence – and his bubbly joy shone forth and his zest for life. Those who could not get past his eyes and lack of sight, who needs then anyways?
I don’t know what to say, Becky. Your post is truly an example of everything that is still wrong with the way we care for those who are differently abled – and a heartwarming testament to the simple act of being human. You saved a child’s life. That is pretty amazing. Namaste.
Thanks for sharing this – I’ve only discovered your blog today but I’ll be reading from this day onwards! My son is 2 and we suspect he has Autism…he’s currently undergoing all the assessments to discover his exact diagnoses. I’m a single mom and it’s incredibly hard doing this on my own, but people like you who are willing to share their stories online help me get through the harder times by showing that it DOES get better.
Hang in there. It does get better. I remember the first time I heard the name “Mommy” – he was 2 years 3 weeks. I remember the first time he meant it (eg not just a label) – some 6-7 months later.
It’s not an easy journey, but it’s an incredibly fulfilling one. If you ever want to talk…shoot me an email. everybodysboy@gmail.com
What a wonderful story. I don’t even know how much Moe clues in to other kids that much yet, but I do hope that he will soon know the powerful of a wonderful friend.
He will. Friendship might be different to our kids, but it’s still beautiful and life-affirming. Keep the faith.