Every now and then my youngest son says something that blows me away; in fact, in a world where healthy communication and intelligence aren’t always linked together, I am often impressed by the wisdom in Josh’s words.
(Note: let us never allow the labeling of “special needs” to cause us to conclude that there exists an inability — or a lesser ability — to communicate well with others.)
Today’s post, no less, is not long. I simply wish to share with you my gifted teen’s profound, transparent thinking; he teaches me much, even in the normal routines of daily life. Sometimes we just have to ensure our eyes and ears are open… such as earlier this week…
On Tuesday, Josh had an eye doctor appointment. It’s a somewhat rare occurrence for him, as we had not been to this particular physician for three years. The surroundings were thus somewhat foreign.
We immediately walked into the waiting room, which while rather large, still only hosted less than a handful of other patients at the time. There was a toddler waiting, who sat quietly off in a corner playing with a few toys. There was also an elderly gentlemen in need of care. Before we both joined them, I went to the window to check in, while Josh ventured off to select two seats for us in the room.
After a few minutes and even more in-need-of-filling forms, I finished registering and turned to find Josh. I saw him nowhere. I scanned the room, wondering if he had for some reason wandered off.
And then what to my wondering eyes should merrily appear, but in the back of the room, there was a miniature plastic house — one of those Little Tikes playhouses — with doors, windows, shutters and shades — that stood no more than four feet tall. I narrowed my focus, and sure enough, through the plastic window slats, I saw Josh’s big, blue eyes peek out at me. His smile was radiant and contagious.
So I strolled across the room taking a seat near an adjacent, outside window, eager to greet Josh in his newfound, gleeful discovery. He sat on the floor — this 8th grader taking up most all the space inside the house. I quickly realized, however, that his glee was gone. He sat there, stationary… and silent.
So I waited, giving him time to think and reflect. Then all of a sudden, he offered a single, serious, but not unhappy phrase:
“I miss being little.”
How profound… how honest… what an excellent communicator..
I miss being little…
May my eyes, ears, and heart always be open to what this young man has to say. He teaches many of us daily.
Respectfully…
AR
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.