The School Bus

When he was two
I put him on the bus
he was just a baby
my little baby.
going to a school
to learn what I
in all my wisdom
could not teach him.

I took him to the bus stop
that morning,
holding back the tears,
handing him over
to strangers.
I had not expected
this, I had looked forward
to days filled with
fun and laughter,
playing in the park
jumping in puddles,
and swinging high in the air.

He still had those baby cheeks,
and his hands were pudgy
I had not cut his hair ever
and it fell down around
his shoulders.
This was not supposed
to happen.
I was being robbed,
I was supposed to have
had this little child
for three more years.
I should have been the one
to help him learn
to show him the world.

But I could not even
teach him who he was.
I had to come to grips
with that knowledge
that others, would teach
my child, that my hands
were not the hands
to guide him.
I had to let him go
in order to gather him home.

He didnt care that
I had put him on a bus
to go to a school, where
they would try and reach him.
He didn't turn to wave
as I stood on the sidewalk
blowing a kiss.
No tears were shed
by the baby in the school bus,
no goodbyes for the
mother on the street.

He sat clutching his
new backpack,
reciting the alphabet
over and over.
When the bus pulled away
I walked home,
holding in tears
that promised to fall.

Opening the door
the stillness hit me,
the quiet, the solitude.
I was not ready for this,
that bus had taken away my baby.
I wanted to run after it
screaming for it to stop
I wanted to grab that
small boy, hold him
and hurry home.
Sing to him, bake cookies
and rock him to sleep.

But I could not,
his only hope was
the bus that would take
him to a place where
loving hands would work
their magic, would tend
and teach
And so it was,
that day when
the school bus came.

I let him go.

Autism is not the end of the World
. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.

copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer

Can You Fly?
My son
how long I have waited
to introduce you
to the world.
To take your tiny hand
and lead you, teach you,
give to you all my knowledge
share with you my love..
I have watched
as you stand on the edge
like a fledgling bird
waiting to try its wings.
I have hovered above you
hoping to see you fly,
I have taught you that life is beautiful
I have shown you the flowers,
the ocean, the trees.
I have given you all I have,
my dreams are tied to you,
my life spent reaching you.
My soul weaved into yours,
a tapestry of tears and joy.
I have tried to show you
that your world and mine
are not so far apart,
That if we reach out,
look within, seek and
find each other,
we will become as one.
Did you know
that I have watched
holding my breath,
as you carefully
test the waters,
spread your wings. . . .
Oh my son!
Can you do it
Can you fly?

c. Sally Meyer 1999

Some days are like that!!!

There are some days, when everything goes wrong
and I want to tear out my hair and scream!
Like today when the dishwasher leaked, dripping
water down in the basement. And I had no money to call a plumber
so I tried to fix it myself and I broke the pipes. . . .
Some days are like that!

There are those days when my little boy is impossible
and I want to pack my bags, and hitch hike to Hawaii.
Like today when he sang the same song over and over
as he sat in the basement and counted the drips from
he dishwasher as they fell onto the television in his bedroom below.
and didn't tell me. . . . .
Some days are like that

There are some days when I feel like it's not worth it
and I want to be someone else, maybe I could be Mrs. Jones who lives down
the street.
Like today when I was running after my son, who got mad because
his television was broken, and he decided to hitch hike to Hawaii,
Mrs. Jones was sitting on her porch drinking cool lemonade.
smiling sweetly as I dragged him back home. . . .
Some days are like that.

There are some days when I want to cry because it all seems too much
Like today when Mrs. Jones came over with a plateful of cookies
and gave my son an old television that her husband had fixed up
before he passed away. And we all sat together and watched videos
of Hawaii, and ate chocolate chip cookies, on paper plates.
And after he fell asleep, she told me how happy she was to find a
friend.. . . . .

Some days are like that!!

Sally
Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.
copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer

White Picket Fences and other myths

There are days
when I feel alone
when life is so different
than I imagined.
Of course I wanted the
white picket fence,
the two kids,
and the dog.
Who doesnt?
But dreams are like that,
they disapear
in the morning of life,
and we wake
to reality.
with a thump
as we fall out of our
bed of roses.
Is it silly to still dream?
is it naive
to ponder?
I sit sometimes on my porch
when the house is
still, reflecting on these
last few years,
when that little boy
wandered into our lives.
Oh how he wanders!
like a pixie, an elf,
a wonderful little creature
who fascinates and
terrifies us all.
Who can know him?
does he know
himself?
Who is he, and where is the key
to unlock,
to discover, to hold, and to find?
Oh yes, I wanted it all
back then,
before he came,
didn't realize that his coming
would change me so,
that a small boy
could work his way into my heart,
twisting it somewhat
tearing it sometimes,
but finding his place, nonetheless.
And I still can dream,
despite the sadness,
in spite of the pain,
I dream in color now,
back then
it was all black
and white
picket fences.

sally
Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.

copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer

Is this your child?
Is this your child?
someone asked me
when I was shopping
in a crowded store.

Is this your child?

I stopped for a moment
and looked at
at my son.
He hadn't let me
comb his hair
that day,
and he wore his
favorite teeshirt
which was
decorated
in ketchup red
and chocolate
brown.

His face was smudged
and dirty,
we had been
to the park
and he had fallen
in a mud puddle.
He was singing
God Bless America
over and over
in his offpitch
voice.

Is this your child?

She asked again
I looked into her
unfriendly eyes
and cringed at
her tone of voice.

Taking a deep breath
I ruffled that unruly hair
kissed his smudgy cheek.
Turning to face her
I answered
loudly and proudly
"Oh yes,
this is my child
his name is Dhylan

Isn't he wonderful?"

c. 1999 Sally Meyer.
Autism is not the end of the World
. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.

Evening Prayer

When eventide approaches
and light of day grows dim
I tiptoe to my sleeping child,
to gaze in awe of him.

Curly head and dimpled cheek
so dear, in sweet repose.
Soft sounds of slumber emanate,
melodious dreaming, I suppose.

No word can speak, nor tongue may tell,
the love that swells my soul,
as moonbeams shine on his dear face
his virtues to extol.

How grateful and how blessed am I
to simply stop and stare,
and I, in tender vigilence
intone a mother's prayer.

Bless my special little child,
and keep him safe from harm,
let other's love him, as I do
protect him from life's storm.

When the evening hour approaches,
and light of day grows dim
I tiptoe to my sleeping child,
to gaze, in awe of him.

c. Sally 1997.
Have a wonderful day, and take care.

Just for this day.

Just for this morning, I am going to smile whenever I see your face.
and laugh when I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you wake up softly, all rumpled in your
flannel and I will hold you until you are ready.

Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and
smile and say you're beautiful.

Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you
up and take you to the park to play.

Just for this morning, I am going to eat a huge breakfast , with bacon
eggs, toast and waffles, and you don't have to eat any.

Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you
teach me how to put that 100 piece puzzle together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the
computer off, and sit with you in the garden blowing bubbles.

Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble
when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.

Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be
when you grow up or who you might have been before your diagnosis.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't
stand over you trying to 'fix' things.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you put all kinds of barettes in my
hair, and put lipstick on my face, and I will tell you how pretty you have made me look.

Just for this afternoon I will take you to McDonalds and buy us both a
Happy meal so you can have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story
about how you were born, and how much we love you.

Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the bathtub and not get
angry when you throw water over your sister's head.

Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the
porch swing and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will bring you glasses of water, and snuggle
beside you for three hours and miss my favorite show on t.v.

Just for this evening, When I kneel down to pray, I will simply be
grateful for all that I have and not ask for anything, except

just one more day.

Sally

Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.
copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer

God Bless the Mothers.

God bless the the mothers,
the ones who rock their children
and place them in warm cradles.

God bless the mothers,
the ones who wrap their children
and hide them from bullets and terror.

God bless the mothers,
those who take their children
to the movies, and buy them popcorn.

God bless the mothers
those who feed them their own
portion of food, saying they are not hungry.

God bless the mother's
the ones whose children do well
in school, and get straight A's

God bless the mothers
the ones whose children
steal cars, take drugs and drop out.

God bless the mothers
those who have children who
are born perfect, whole and healthy.

God bless the mothers
whose children cannot walk
or hear or see.

God bless the mothers
whose children grow up
and have children of their own.

God bless the mothers
who lose a child, and
spend a lifetime mourning.

God bless the mothers
who go to church on Sunday
and take their children with them.

God bless the mothers
who stay home on Sunday
and bake cookies and read.

God bless the mothers
who give money to charity
and send food to the food banks.

God bless the mothers
who wait in line, hoping
for a decent meal and a bed.

God bless the mothers
whose children pray at night
beside their warm cozy beds.

God bless the mothers
whose children cry out in hunger.
And shiver in the cold.

God bless the mothers
who sing to their children
and rock them to sleep.

God bless the mothers
who sing without music
and dance without reason.

God bless the mothers . . . . . . . . .

c. Sally Meyer

A simple act of Kindness

He lay on my bed
watching the Disney channel
as always,
I crept up beside him
laid my head on
his pillow.
He remained still
nor did he acknowledge
I was there.
I felt him breathing,
soft and sweet . . .
like him.
He did not seem
to mind me
being right there
so I snuggled closer
just to feel
him, just to touch
to be a part
of this child
my son.
After a moment
he turned to me,
then reaching towards me
he took his
tattered blanket,
and carefully
tenderly
laid it on me,
tucked me in,
as I had done to him,
so many times.before.
And I lay there
with my tears
and my son,
together on the bed
wrapped in a tattered blanket.
There is joy
in simple moments,
there is magic
in the little things

c. Sally Meyer 1999

Our Journey.

Abide with me, as I journey
take my hand, I dare not walk alone.
Lean on me, when life gets weary,
I will help you, 'til we're grown.

Sometimes I won't know your sorrow,
you may not always see my tears,
if you stumble on your journey,
I will lift you... calm your fears.

One day we will know the answer
to that searching question....Why?
Yet for now, we'll walk together
hand in hand, as life goes by.

Our pathway is not lined with roses
but there is magic in a smile,
this road we travel may be lonely
but there are rainbows once in a while.

Help me as I climb my mountain,
in the valley I have grown
put your weary hand in my hand,
we cannot, dare not, walk alone.

(an excerpt from the book
One More Blessing
the story of a small boy
and his struggle with autism)

c. Sally Meyer 1996

This child of mine.

This little child of mine
who is he?
where did he come from
and why is he mine?

I often sit and wonder
at the closing of the day
who trusted me
with this little one
who sent him here to stay?

This little child
who breaks my heart
yet fills it with such joy
what great thing have I done
to have this little boy?

When my tears run freely
joy and sadness mingled
what a mixture,
a blending of such emotion
who gave me this little child
and why am I so blessed?

I pray at night for answers
and call out in the dark
Thank you for this little child
whoever he may be,
he came from some unknown star
to bless and comfort me.

Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.

copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer

A trip to McDonalds,

It's easy to get him in the car,
just mention the M word
and he goes quietly,
then we're off, into the
world of chicken nuggets
fries and bug juice.
Bug juice?
It's half sprite, half Hi C
always the same at McDonalds.
Except for the toys,
collect them all, we do!
In the ball pit,
we watch him carefully,
one time we were
asked to leave,
he spit on a kid
whose mother had a
very red angry face,
I explained he was autistic
she said loudly
"Yes, we can tell!"
If we hear crying,
we choke down our greasy
chicken sandwich,
run to peer through
the colorful mazes,
"What happened,?"
His smile as he comes
down the slide
tells the story,
while a child up in
playland cries,
having received
a love bite from
our son.
Once he actually ate
the fries, nuggets and bug juice
we were delighted!
He usually just grabs the toy
and goes to see
what havoc he can wreak
on others.
Why do we go?
How can we not,
He watches television,
the ads come on
every day,
New at McDonalds.....
Bugs life figures,
Collect all 8,
we do!
And that is not all we collect
we have come away
with angry words,
whispers,
mean looks, and
outright confrontations,
When we get home,
we collapse,
exhausted and weary,
while our son
lines up his collections,
and runs to
turn on the t.v.
See you at McDonalds!!!!!!

Sally
Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.

copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer