He will carry the papers around with him, reading the words, explaining them to other people, especially Geoff, Sawyer and I. It is a lot of the same words over and over again, but who am I to judge? He loves them, they make him happy, and it's cheap and easy for me to do, so why wouldn't I?
This morning, Sebastian woke me up around 6am. As I cracked my eyes on the first day in weeks that I was able to sleep in (our photo shoot got rescheduled and it was supposed to rain, so Adam wouldn't be here early to work), the sight I was greated with a sheet of blank paper and a pen shoved in my face.
I pleaded with him for another hour of sleep. He heaved a heavy sigh (his latest party trick) and grumbled his way out of the room. About 20 minutes later, he was back. I wrote a few words, and asked him to go and play. This went on and on, until about 730. Finally, I gave in, and wrote the words that he wanted. After half the page was filled, I called a halt to the proceedings and made my way down to the kitchen to make him breakfast.
Equipped with toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches and apple juice, I made my way back upstairs for a picnic in my bed (I was still hoping for a chance to sleep, to be honest.) As I passed the dining room table, I happened to look down.
What I saw was a miracle.
|Buster and Arthur|
He struggled with the S in Buster.
|Muffy and ABCDE|
Sebastian had obviously gotten tired of waiting for me to write out his words for him. So he did it himself.
So. What's the big deal? He wrote 3 words and ABCDE, and not very well at that, you might be thinking.
Oh my friend, it is a big deal. A BIG F*CKING DEAL.
We were told that Sebastian would never be a functional printer. The best we could ever hope for was that he would be able to print his name legibly enough to sign documents, etc. Because of the issues with the fusion of the bones in his elbows, and his hyper flexibility in his fingers and poor upper body strength, writing is a monumental task for him. Experts said it would never happen.
To be honest, we always had other things that were more important to focus on. Speaking, walking, functioning...printing just took a back seat.
But in the last few months, his therapists have been working with his printing a lot. It is obviously paying off.
I can read those words. They are so clear, compared to his previous attempts, I honestly thought that Geoff had done it, or had helped him with hand over hand guidance. But Geoff swears that it wasn't him. It wasn't me.
That just leaves Bastian. Oh my lord. My little miracle.
I remember the first time he wrote his name. He was about 6 years old. Geoff, Sebastian and I were at the Far East Chinese Restaurant. Geoff and I were chatting, and Sebastian was playing with his papers. He doesn't colour or write on the placemats, so it was unusual for him to pick up the crayon. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye, but continued to talk with Geoff. I heard Sebastian talking quietly to himself, and it took me a moment to interpret what he was saying.
What he was saying was his name, spelling it out, letter by letter. What he was doing was trying his damnest to write it out.
I ended up having to go to the washroom to cry. Happy tears. Good tears.
I cried those same tears today. Arthur. Buster. Muffy. ABCDE. Words that can change lives for the better.
Today was full of everyday miracles. Thanks buddy!
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new doors opening".