When I was six I
started therapy. I remember a brunette, on the shorter side, with olive skin. I
remember talking to her for a little bit in a dimly lit room, then we went into
the play room. This is where I have most of my memories. I remember playing life
or death. She was always on her death bed and I couldn't save her. She was
dying. I do remember the death. I would surround her with paper bricks and make
her lay down and pretend she was dead. When we were done she would talk to my
parents while I read to myself. I felt different.
This guy. What can I do I say about this wonderful man. I start by saying...Happy birthday, son. I can't express how blessed I am to have been chosen to be your mother. What a honor it is for me to raise such a fine human being. Thank you. I marvel at all you do and everything you have accomplished in the 22 years you've been.on this planet. School. Work. Friends. Family. You would take your own shirt off your back to help your fellow brother. I admire you for that. Your work ethic puts others to shame. Showing everyone that Autism isn't going to stand in your way. I stand all amazed by you. My hero. My love. My Son. Have the happiest of birthday my sweet boy. Forever and beyond ❤
little games we played as innocent but had deeper meanings !
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