B Side We had hardly anything but proximity and seasons of birthing in common.  Only a couple of leaves still clung to the trees and the wind whipped against our cheeks, but my neighbor and I still ambled down our street because we had strollers and a lot of quiet. My daughter’s afro puffs and her son’s wisps of blond hair were barely visible over the top of the strollers.  She texted me to tell me about her son’s autism diagnosis; her son would start at our neighborhood school in the exceptional children’s program next month. My daughter began in the exceptional children’s program two months before, at a school that treated exceptional children as a euphemism for difficulty learning, where the fence stopped before it made its way around the playground. A playground that sat next to the city bus stop on the busy street the school was named for. Even though we pushed our strollers down our neighboring driveways to meet for our walks, she had her son placed in a school right …

Our recent heartbreaks and heartaches from the past five years shaped us to be the people we are today. As Eric. As Linda. And mother and son. As advocates. Here are a few snippets and snapshots from our lives from the past 5 years that I hope will inspire you. Eric’s Heart Eric’s gift is his profound spirituality. He has had a thirst for GOD and a fascination with the church since he was a child. Always say his grace before meals and he prays before going to bed. He even wears the name of Jesus shaved on his head. He never wants us to miss church. Eric takes notice of the things we take for granted, like flowers and sunshine. Children, the elderly, and the homeless hold a special place in his heart. When Eric was 11, it wasn’t so much being autistic that concerned him. Being autistic has become a part of the way he lives. Finding out he needed heart bypass surgery took him by surprise. He felt the hand that life …

Maceo stands bent over his knees, gliding his feet across the multi-colored carpet, lost in the patterns, lost in the repetition. He swings his swollen, blistered fingers like propeller blades between his teeth. He propels oohs and moos between spit-covered fingers, becoming louder and faster, gaining momentum. Attempting to fly. “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,” Maceo says, each word drawing him deeper into his world. Instead of soaring, Maceo flings himself back onto the couch, crashing into its center. He giggles and wiggles into position before picking up his iPad and launching into his favorite car racing game. He bursts out laughing as he attacks the on-screen controls for accelerating the race car and increasing the volume of the game’s music. He usually covers his ears with his thumbs when he hears loud noises. He stiffens his fingers in the air like moose antlers as a distress signal. As he plays, colors flash across his face like a kaleidoscope. In the quiet living room, onomatopoeic sounds collide. From the dining room table, his father, eldest brother, and …