artistic
January 15, 2016 § 2 Comments
In fleeting minutes of busy days, I have taken to indulging in borrowed time among old photographs; giving thanks for those images preserved in a cardboard box of jumbled memories.
Among these paper gems was a particular photograph that has captured my heart, a forgotten play day from long before our son’s Autism Spectrum diagnosis. There is joy in this discovery for a later memory, one not captured in print; a discussion with our elementary aged son and a cautious question of his understanding of Autism as so many adults introduced a new language to his vocabulary.
I wasn’t sure, then, what he understood and it was important to me that our son’s identity expand to encompass this new knowledge in a way that honored a heart, mind, and spirit greater than clinical terms and educational assessments. So, I asked our son if he understood what his diagnosis meant.
I know I’m artistic.
And so he is as he always was, a mystery of ability with not so unusual needs.
In ten years we have learned much, but it is the magic of the inexplainable that still best speaks to our son’s truth.
“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” ―Albert Einstein
scribblechic 
Maybe a mystery to us, but he BELIEVED he was ‘artistic’. Most of us don’t believe in ourselves.
A very beautiful post Marie, those four words he uttered have more meaning than anything else.
Thank you for sharing.
I only hope both my children guard that sense of self well.