The Colors of My Morning
In the morning, it is as though I am the only one listening to soft music playing. My blanket is cozy, it is a hug that never wants to leave. The sun rays through my curtains in golden lines on my wall. I prefer the way the light is playing across my ceiling–like it has a secret it is telling me and nobody can hear.
My name is Noah. I’m seven years old. I have a condition known as autism, mom. I do not always know what that entails, but I am aware that my brain thinks otherwise. The colors, sounds, and shapes in my world are even more loud, big or small and sometimes quite soft or quite quiet than it is with other people.
There is the smell of toast and honey in the kitchen, one of my favorite smells. The low buzz of the refrigerator is my constant companion, my constant companion. Dad calls me to breakfast, however, occasionally I would like to have an extra few minutes to see how the sun is moving or count the small dots on the wallpaper.
I squeeze my hands and take a slow breath just as Mom used to do. It comes in handy when the world is too noisy or hectic.
My Quiet Place
The garden is an eloquent kingdom outside. The leaves do not rustle; they tell tales as the wind blows. I am crouching very closely by the lavender, and I see a ladybug come crawling up the stem very slowly. It is not in a hurry as were the town people.
At other times, people just talk with me and their words sound like popping bubbles, and one can hardly hear them. I prefer them to talk in a low tone or simply sit with me.
The halls at the school are exceedingly noisy. The buzzing lights come and go and it is as though swarms of bees were in my head. I carry a special blue blanket with me. When I get too sentimental I squeeze. It is my little boat in a great ocean.
Lily, My Friend
Lily is my best friend. She does not mind when I require silence or flapping my hands when I am delighted. We do not necessarily play the same games but we do know each other like some secret language.
One day, Lily came to me and offered me a box of crayons and told me, Let us draw what colors we feel in us. We were sitting in the shade of the big oak tree, and I chose bright yellow to the sun that gives me a happy heart. then a still blue to indicate the silent spots of my brain.
Drawing will assist me in narrating my story when I am stuck or lost in words. The colors, the shapes run out of me like a mild river and people can peep in my world through it.
When the World Breaks.
There are those days the world is heavy, like a silent storm within me. The bang of a school bell or a crowd makes my chest tight and my mind spins at a fast pace. I wish sometimes to shrink behind the leg of Mom or make a run to my secret quiet place.
One day the noisy fire alarm went on, and I had a buzzing of my head, and my heart going wild. I did not know what was going on and the world was shattered. I put my ears together and closed my eyes and attempted to seek peace in the storm.
Mom grasped my hand and mumbled, It is all right, Noah. ” You’re safe.”
Yet within, there was a protracted duration of the storm, and I was lost in the din.
Holding On
Back home, Mom and Dad would have me perfecting my world once again. We share some silent moments with music, some cuddling, and warm blankets. Mom says my brain is a puzzle, some parts go together quickly, and some are time-consuming and time-intensive.
I have good days and hard days. On bad days, I am frightened and lonely. But I do not forget about the smiles of Lily and the colors of my drawings. Gradually, the tempest within me dies away leaving in its place the light and hope.
To Noah in the Name of his Heart.
I sometimes get a mute storm in my head, feelings too large and loud to be expressed. That is what my brain is telling me: it requires some time to recover. I am not broken.
I am not a single puzzle, I am a combination of a great number of pieces of a variety of colors–they are all a part of me. The colors always shine within me, even when they swirl so fast, or become so quiet.
Any tender hand, any soft word, any silent sigh, is of benefit to me. The color of love in my world is the brightest one and it guides me home.
Remember, you are not alone, in case you ever get lost or are scared. Your story matters. And this world is better, your presence herein.
Autism is not always loud—it’s the silence behind the noise,
the stillness where understanding blooms softly,
like a gentle flower opening in dawn’s first light.
–Baishakhi Das (MonoProva)