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Sally's love, light, and inspiration for these beautiful poems....Dhylan

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.


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

A Little boy in an oversized longsleeved shirt

He sat on my bed this evening, lost in a movie
it was Snow White and the seven dwarfs.
After it was over, he walked into his Daddy's closet
and pulling one of his long sleeved shirts, off a hanger
he put it on, and came to stand beside me.
The sleeves were so long, they draped on the floor
and he stood smiling as if he had a secret.
then he turned around and around
with the sleeves flapping, and he danced out of the room.
I coudn't figure this one out, and followed behind him.
"What are you doing?" I asked him, as he marched
from room to room, humming an oddly familiar tune.
He paused then, and came close to me,
whispered in my ear. "Dopey is autistic,
he can't talk, and autistic people have forgotten how to talk.
I am Dopey."
Then off he went again, humming happily.
Now he lays in his bed, with his 'Dopey' shirt on,
with the arms draped over the edge of his bed.

And I sit here wondering, why or how he identified himself
in that way. He can talk, yet he knows he is different
he knows he has autism. The school he attends is for autistic
children. So he understands why he is there.

A few weeks ago, when he told his teacher that all the people in his
school were autistic, she asked him, "Do I have autism Dhylan"
he said without hesitating, "Of course you do, or you would not be here"

Tonight as he marched around the room,
trailing his sleeves and humming I
wondered How many times will he catch me unawares,
how often will he bring tears to my eyes?
how can I help him know who he is and help him find his place
in this large and complicated world that he lives in?

I pray every day that I can.

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

One Hundred Tears

A hundred times I told him
a hundred times and more.
"Don't hit the dog, don't run away
don't throw that on the floor!"

All morning he was busy
he didn't stop to think.
He broke my lamp and spilled his milk
dumped the kitten in the sink.

He ran around the house all day
without a stitch of clothes.
He flapped his hands and laughed and cried
and fell and bumped his nose.

At dinner came the moment
when I'd simply had enough.
He dumped his dinner on the floor
and that's when I got tough.

I sent him off to bed right then,
despite his tearful pleas.
I let him cry himself to sleep
it brought me to my knees.

When silence fell upon his room
I slowly crept inside
and gazing on his tear stained face
I broke down and I cried.


A hundred tears I wept that night,
a hundred tears and more,
for this little boy who spilled his milk
on my nice bright shiny floor.

Who am I to scold my son
for things he cannot know?
He looks to me for patience
to help him learn and grow.

A hundred prayers I said that night,
a hundred prayers and more.
Help me Lord to teach my child
this child that I adore.

And as I left his room that night
I kissed his tears away,
and promised that tomorrow
would be a better day.

(for Dhylan)
c. Sally Meyer 1999.

My Mother's Day Gift

In the mail
today an envelope
addressed to me,
in childish hand
squiggles of
dark red magic marker.

I opened it,
hastily folded
bunched by
childish hands
to make it fit.
I pulled it out.

It read,
"Dear Mommy
I love you."
I wept, because
he never
told me this
except in my dreams.

A sudden twist
of fate took
you away.
Now you are
coming back
one puzzle piece
at a time.

How do I
make you fit
or do I?
Can you put
yourself together
do you
still need me?

I remember
another Mother's day
eternities ago. . .
when I rocked
you all night long.
Asking God for
just one thing
"Let him one day
say . . . I love you"

Today I got
an envelope in
the mail.
Funny that my
answer should
come so
Drawn by
little hands in
red magic marker.

Sally Meyer
Autism is not the end of the world. . . .
just the beginning of a new one
Just open your eyes. . . . .and see

At the Crossroads.

Oh ...............I remember that feeling a million years ago
When my heart whispered to me that....
something was not 'right' with my child,
That awful sinking feeling as I watched him
and realized that he was not the same as other children.

That feeling of despair, when I crept up behind him
to call his name, or drop a book, and he didn't respond,
he just didn't seem to hear............

That feeling of knife turning pain when he didn't know me
or he became so distant, so out of this world.

That's when I took his hand and ventured forth to find out why,
and came to the crossroads, that part in the journey where
I didn't know where to go, or which road to take.

Oh, there's the road, that leads to deafness, we went there
took that road, because of course he must be deaf.
Why else would he not respond, when I called his name?
But I found out that he was not deaf.........

And I went back up the path, to the crossroads again
Time to go down the road to PDD NOS
take that road and see where it leads,
circles and circles, and no real answers, just frustration
Back to the cross roads again, hmm which path now?
This sign points to Normal, let's take that one......just in case.....
oh please!!

Two minutes later, we are back at the cross roads, again.
Now what,? Okay this one points to Autism, lets go there.
This one could be the right one, we spent a few days there.
But no, he's not does not belong here either, he doesnt quite fit the
criteria, he's too social, too animated, too talkative.

Okay, another road, (and I am running out of signposts)
Asperger Syndrome, does he belong there?
Walking down that road, seems more natural, he seems to fit here,
But wait, no it can't be Asperger's the doctor tells me,
He just doesn't fit all the mold, there are some pieces of this puzzle

Back to the cross roads, and we sit, my son and I, turning to the left,
going to the right. Where do we fit? Where do we go?
How many trips will we take, before we make it home?
before we know where we belong. How many times
can we sit at the crossroads, and wonder?

Beyond the horizon I see a meadow, green and inviting,
and taking him by the hand, we walk there,
strolling through the flowers, holding hands.
And in the setting sun, we share a moment of freedom.
Romping in the dappled light, laughing with each other,
playing together, until the sun slips down below the horizon.

Oh, we will return, to the crossroads
for we must find out where we belong.
but for now we will walk, in freedom
content just to be together
happy to linger in the twiglight.

Tomorrow will come, as surely as the sun must rise
and the search will continue. There will always be questions.

There may never be answers.
Yet there will be moments, such as this
where we simply enjoy each other,
right here.......right this peaceful meadow.
of our lives.

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

What other children do to our children.

It was last summer when it happened, one of those things that sets your
world spinning and your heart screaming with frustration.

My son was four then, a cute little, odd little boy. He loved to play
in his own special way, not understanding any of the social clues
that other children pick up on, without any prompting.

I listened to them play as I washed the dishes, looking through the
window and feeling happy that for once he was included, he wasn't
crying he was giggling, his little giggle that made me chuckle inside,as I
wiped another dish.

I checked again five minutes later, wiping my hands dry. I stepped out
into the back yard. I looked at the group of little boys,
and noticed mine was missing.

Where could he have gone, he was right here, not five minutes ago. "Where's Dhylan?" I asked the other four year olds, they looked sheepish and my heart dropped, "Where is he!" I demanded, my heart pounding. I spoke sharply, and they stood in front of me, with their heads down, averting their eyes.

Once again, I asked them, panic rising up in my throat, my voice shaky and shrill. "Where is Dhylan!" One of the older boys smiled and said, "He's in the van," and pointed to my Ford van, parked nearby. I looked again and saw my son sitting there smiling into thin air, just sitting, in a van with the windows up, and the weather reaching 90 degrees.

I ran to the van and unlocked the door, pulling him out, checking him
over to see if he was okay.. He seemed fine, and I turned to the boys, yelling now, all patience long gone,

"Why, " I demanded "Why was he in the van!!!"

Again the sheepish grins, and the leader, the one who I thought liked
Dhylan spoke up. "Well" he said, proudly, "We were tired of him, he bothers us, so we told him that we would take him to McDonalds, and then when he got in,we locked the door"

I looked into the faces of these children, they were just little
children, none of them older than five years old,
yet they had done such a terrible thing,
they had collaborated against my little boy,
and finding him odd, different and bothersome,
they had come up with a plan to get rid of him.

I was so frustrated and hurt, that I could not even speak, I motioned
for them to go home, and they scurried off, sensing by my face, and the tears
that streamed down my cheeks, that they had done something very wrong.

I carried my son inside, stroking his head, offering him a drink, and
he took it thirstily and then looked up at me, with his innocent eyes, and said,

It's been a year since that happened, but I often think of that moment,
and the pain it caused me, I worry about the future, and how people will treat him.

Looking to the future brings me great fear, who will love him when I
am gone? will he be able to make it in the big cruel world? Who can say?
for if he can be taunted and shunned by little children, how much more
will he be rejected when he is grown. People don't seem to have the
tolerance for those afflicted mentally.

Oh there is sympathy for those in a wheelchair,
or for those who have physical illness.
Today there was a telethon for a local children's hospital,
money was pouring in, which is wonderful.
But I wonder what will become of the children
who are like my son, the ones who will need constant care,
who will be the 'odd' ones, the ones who talk to themselves,
or bang their heads, or cannot dress themselves.

What will happen to them when they become adolescents,
when they become grown men and women?
I can only hope that in time and with much awareness,
generated by people who are working to get the word out on autism,
only with this publicity, will we gain tolerance and love for our children,
who will surely grow up. That is the one certainty, they
will grow up.

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

The Yellow Kite

The other day
I saw a yellow kite
it was so beautiful
flying free, against
an electric blue

I thought of my
little child,
and realized
he is just like that
yellow kite
He is the kite
flying free
colorful, unique
I like to think
that the string
is the love
between us.

I stand and watch
him, as he soars
I pull him back
when danger
to topple him.
I give more of
the string, when he
needs it,
allowing him to
test the skies
and fly on his own.

But I love him
to reel him in
when he is
out of control
when his fears
and his tears,
send him in a
I pull the string gently,
I must not break
the string,
for if I let it go
my beautiful yellow
kite will be alone
and he is not ready.

Some days there
is not enough wind
for my kite to fly.
On those days, when
life is just too windy
or even too calm.
I fold him up carefully
in my arms,
hold him close,
until the time is
right to let
him fly free once more.

c. Sally Meyer 2000

Liam's Journey.

In the shade of the trees by the banks of a lake, Liam was born. He
began his life in a

nest along with six other eggs. Liam was the first to hatch, he pecked

furiously at the shell, until he managed to squeeze out into the

His mother stood admiring her new son and waited patiently for his
siblings to hatch.

It took a little while but eventually there were seven little ducklings
standing on the


“Oh my goodness!” the mother duck exclaimed, “What a wonderful family I

She looked proudly at all her babies and gathered them about her.

As time went by, the mother duck taught her babies to swim, they
followed behind

her on the crystal waters. They stayed in a straight line behind their
mother, if she went

to the left, they followed, when she swam to the right they kept right in

When she stopped to admire the beauty of their world, or to dip

her head beneath the water to catch a tasty grub, they swam beside her in
a circle,

hoping to be the one to share her tasty treat.

Liam always liked to be the last in line, he seemed to enjoy watching the

ducklings, as they swam in such a nice straight line. When one of them
got out of line,

he quacked furiously, and cried great big ducky tears.

The mother noticed that Liam was different from her other babies. He
looked just

exactly like the rest, with his sweet little beak, and snowy white

feathers, but there was something about Liam that worried her. She
stayed up at night,

in the shade of the willow tree, and pondered about her little son, and
what could be

wrong. Who was this little duckling, and why did he act so strangely?

As time went on, Liam didn’t quack anymore, he refused to swim in the
lake, he didn’t

like the way the water felt when he put his head beneath the surface to
hunt for food.

He only wanted to stand on the shore looking out into the blue water,
tapping his little

webbed feet over and over. Some days he walked along the shore and
played alone in

the rushes. Other days he spent his time sitting quietly, arranging the
pebbles that he

had collected on the shore into long straight lines

His mother was worried about him, he did not like to eat the green shoots
that the other

duckings loved. He only ate one particular grub, which were hard for his
mother to find.

The other ducklings avoided Liam, he always wandered off and got lost.
Mother would

send Lucy and Leroy to look for him and they got tired of wasting their
days searching

for him. Lila and Lester wanted to play with the other ducks, but had to
baby-sit Liam

even though he was really the oldest one, because he had hatched first.
But somehow

Liam didn’t understand danger, and had to be watched constantly for fear
he would

get into trouble. "We are tired of taking care of Liam," they wailed.
"We want to go play

with our friends across the lake, why do we have to stay and watch him
all the time?"

Liam's mother wanted to spend the evenings with her friends, for they
would gather

together in the middle of the lake discussing the latest gossip. She
missed these

moments, but she had to stay close to Liam during the long night hours.
Liam had a

hard time going to sleep, and sometimes if he woke during the night he
wandered off

into the darkness. Papa Duck often stayed up late with her, talking
about their son, and

what they were going to do about him.

They missed the days when they used to visit with friends while the
children slept.

All night long they stayed close to Liam. Sometimes he would let Mama
put her wing

around him as she told him stories about the lake, and about the world
and how

wonderful it was. Other nights, Papa told him stories about when he was a

duckling. Liam was silent, but they knew that he was listening, Mama
stroked his

downy head and wept for the little white duckling, who sat so still
beside her.

“Why is he so different?” she wondered, “Why did I have such a child?”

When Liam fell asleep, she tucked him in with all the other children and
lay beside

Papa, but sleep did not come easily for the parents of Liam.

Liam didn’t notice that he was causing any problems. He was happy, he
smiled at the

flecks of dust that made rainbows in the sunlight. When the other
children teased him

he didn’t seem to care, he created his own happiness, smiling at them
cheerfully. Life

for Liam was always the same and he liked it that way. Each day he woke
up, ate two

grubs that his mother had found for him. Then he waddled to the shore to

the sun rise. It was wonderful to him that every day when he came to the
edge of the

water, the large sun rose slowly and higher into the sky. It made him
feel good that he

could depend on this every day.

One day Liam woke up early, went outside to watch the sun rise. As he
walked to

the shore he felt something he had never felt before, a cold breeze
ruffled his feathers

and made him shiver. As he stood waiting for the sun to rise, he tapped
his foot

impatiently. Liam waited for a long time, he became anxious. Where was
the sun?

Every day of his life he had watched it rise, that was how he started
his day.

After a minute or two, a large cloud loomed overhead, the wind blew
colder. Liam’s

feathers became chilly, he stood shivering, then began to cry.

Liam decided that if the sun would not rise, maybe it was lost. He
decided to venture

out to find the sun, that would make everything okay again. He started
waddling along

the shoreline determined to catch the sun and tell it to rise.

When the Mama and Papa duck and the other children woke a few minutes
later, they

noticed that Liam was missing. Lester and Larry hurried to the shoreline
to see if he

was there but they ran home to tell mother that Liam was nowhere to be

Mama duck’s heart began to flutter and she quickly went out herself to
check the shore.

No one was there, no little white duckling waiting for the sun to rise.
Liam was gone

leaving a trail of footprints going eastward.

Mother Duck panicked, she knew that Liam did not know his way around

the lake, he had always stayed close to home preferring to sit quietly
and play. Where

could her little son be?

The other ducks on the lake gathered together, and formed a search party
to try and

find Liam. Some flew overhead trying to spot him, others searched the
rushes and

soggy marshes near the lake. Papa duck joined the search party while
Mama duck

stayed home with her children, they huddled around her sadly, hoping for
good news.

As the day wore on and Liam had not been found the little ducklings
began to cry.

We miss Liam” they cried.

When night fell, the children finally went to sleep, their little bodies
huddled close


But Mother Duck could not sleep, she stood on the shoreline quacking

calling for Liam. She thought back to the times when they sat together
in the evening,

and her wings ached to hold her little son.

She no longer wanted to be with the other mothers, chatting about this

and that. All she wanted was to have Liam next to her as they always
did. She

realized how much she loved him, and how special he was to their family.

She laughed when she remembered how he loved to have his neck tickled
right in that

certain spot. She cried when she realized that she had often wished he
were just like

the others, so that she could have her freedom. She sat on the edge of
the water, all

during the long long night. But Liam did not return.

The next day as the ducklings woke up, they waddled to find their mother
and found her

sitting sadly on the rocky beach. They gathered beside her and she
tucked them

under her wings.

Lucy and Lilly began to sob quietly, “We miss Liam” they cried, “we
miss the way he

smiles at us when we give him a new pebble for his collection”

Lester and Larry joined in, “Oh yes, and the other day when we took him
to the water,

he put his foot in for the first time in ages and he even gave a tiny

Leroy and Lila continued, “We have to find him, our family is not the
same without


Mother Duck smiled at her children, for a moment the worry and sadness
stopped as

she realized that they were a family and that one of them was missing.
It was time to

do something!

They knew that Papa was still out searching on the other side of the lake
for Liam,

but they decided that they would look for Liam themselves. They could no

sit on the shoreline waiting for news of their brother.

They walked along each one quacking loudly, calling for Liam. Although
they knew he

didn't respond to his name, it made them feel good to be doing
something, so they

continued on their journey. At lunch time, they ventured into the water
to eat and

gather some of Liam’s favorite grubs, he must be awfully hungry by now
for his

mother always found his food for him. He would never be brave enough to
go into the

water to find his own.

Late in the afternoon, the little family worried that they would never

Liam. They had searched high and low and had been unsuccessful.

Lucy had swollen feet, and wanted to turn back and Mother decided that if
they didn’t

find him in one more hour, they must return home.

At that moment, the sun came out from behind a large cloud, it shined
down on the

little group. It was a welcome warmth, for the air had been chilly for
most of the day.

As the children sat resting in the sunshine, a small figure waddled out
of the dense

rushes to the shoreline. It was Liam!

He stood there flapping his wings joyfully, greeting his beloved sunshine
that had been

hidden behind the clouds all day.

All of his brothers and sisters quacked loudly and hurried over to him.
Mother duck

stood back for a moment, enjoying the wondrous sight of the seven little
ducks dancing

in the sunlight. Then she, too, rushed towards Liam and wrapped her
wings around

him, joyfully.

Liam seemed surprised to see his family, and smiled shyly at all the fuss
that was being

made of him. Mother duck gave him the grubs she had collected for him,
and he ate

them greedily which was a change for Liam. He usually only ate two
grubs three times

a day.

The little family of ducks hurried homeward. They saw Papa coming
towards them.

His face was sad and tired, but when he saw Liam he rushed to him and
gathered him

close. The children had never seen Papa cry before, and Liam looked up
into his

Papa's face and for the first time, reached to brush a tear away.

That evening the happy family sat together in the moonlight. Liam was

tucked in between them all. And there they slept all huddled close.
Liam was home,

and all was well. Each one of the ducklings had learned something that
day, that

families belonged together, and that each one was important.


Every night all over the world, families gather their children together.
Some families, like

Liam’s, have a special child who is part of them. These families often

like Liam's family did to understand the child who is different. They
may cry many

tears, they often feel alone and isolated from other families whose
children do not

have a disability. But just like Liam's family did, they learn that the
child is a blessing.

They learn that loving a child with a disability is unique. Sometimes
they don’t

get the love back in the way they may want, sometimes a smile is all the
reward they

may get and that is enough. Often there are moments of sheer joy, when a

word is spoken, or when little arms reach out to you. These are the
times when

we give thanks for the simple special moments.

When we live with such a wonderful child, we discover there is magic in
small things,

a new word, a first smile, or a gentle hug.

These children see the world through innocent eyes, they teach us love
and for all of

us who belong to such a child. . . . . . . . . . .

we know we are truly blessed.

Sally Meyer.
copyright 2000.

Before I Go To Sleep…

Mommy, don't you cry now and Daddy don't you weep.

I want to whisper something before I go to sleep.

I know that when I came here I looked perfect in every way.

And you were so proud, Daddy; when you held me on that day.

And Mommy, when you kissed me and wrapped me up so tight,

I knew that I belonged, and everything was right.

But then I stopped talking and began to slip away,

I saw your worried faces as you knelt by me to pray.

And Daddy, I notice how you wipe away a tear,

When you watch the other children as they run and laugh and cheer.

I may not be able to tell you how much I love you so,

Or even show you how I feel and what I really know.

But when you hold me, Mommy, at night when all is still,

I feel the love you have for me and I know that all is well.

And Daddy, when you take outside, to run and play

I know that you still love me thought the words I cannot say.

I know that I am not that little child that you and Daddy planned.

And I know that it's really hard for you to understand.

But I love you both so very much and I know you love me too,

And if I could only speak my heart, you would know my love for you.

I know the future is unknown and you will always have to be,

The ones who love and listen and take good care of me.

I know that you are frightened and you shed so many tears,

And if I could. I'd wipe them dry and take away your fears.

So Mommy, don't you cry now and Daddy please don't weep.

I want to say…I love you both, before I go to sleep.

Written by Sally Meyer 2000


The boy on the playground

There's a boy on the playground
see him over there?
He's watching all the children
and wishing he could share.

There's a girl sitting on the monkey bars
can you see her lonely face?
She turns so you wont see her tears
when she feels so out of place.

These children are the lonely ones
the ones that don't fit in.
They try each day to find a friend
someone to believe in them.

On every crowded playground
in schools throughout the land.
There are children who are lonely
who struggle to understand.

So when you put your child to bed
tonight when darkness comes.
Ask them to whisper a little prayer
to remember the forgotten ones.

So when tomorrow, they see my son
trying hard to know what to say,
they may remember the prayer they said,
and invite him to come and play.



It's coming. . . .
I noticed it
when a silent
breeze touched me,
colder somehow
despite the
earnestly from
my trumpet vine.
And the sun playing
dot to dot with the daisies
across my weathered fence..

The days are slipping
forward, bumping each other
toward that annual
fateful day when
children rumpled
from summer slumber
wake to the ringing
of a different bell.

Where egos, fragile
as a newly sharpened pencil
dither in pungent
hallways, aroma of
crayon, glue and
new shoes.
Where little children
snivel as mothers wave
their own tearful goodbye.
And new cliques
gather at water fountains
at first recess,
while others wait
for a simple smile.

I look out of my window,
my son plays in the
sunlight, talking to
himself. . . answering.
His eyes grey with
innocence, his smile
soft as hummingbird's feathers.
Who will protect him
as he makes his way
to school? Who will take
his hand as he tiptoes
through those darkened halls?

He, who has for so many years, been
sheltered by special teachers,
loved by peers who accept him
for they are such, as he.
Their world not as easy as ours
but gentler by far than the
one he will soon be forced
to embrace. I weep for him.
For I must stand back, and let him go
once more shove him tenderly
into reality. . . . but softly.

It's coming. . . I felt it
yesterday when a cold
breeze touched my cheek.

c. 2000
always... for Dhylan.


Fly free
gentle butterfly
with kaleidoscope wings.
May the golden sun
warm your fragile form,
and life's storms
fall gentle on
your back.
Dream of freedom
and azure skies,
flowers that welcome
your enigmatic soul.
Fly soft little butterfly
do not go
where there is
for people may try
to snare you
in their oppresive nets.
You are too beautiful
for capture
too lovely for
Fly my little butterfly
I hope I have
taught you well.
I will stand back now
in the shadows
and watch as
you test your wings.
My tears will be
of joy, not sorrow
as I remember
your cocoon
and what it took
for you
to fly free.

c. Sally Meyer

Today I Saw My Son As Forest Gump

Today I saw my son in a different light, I saw him as
Forest Gump, that little boy in the movie who ran and ran and ran.
The little boy who saw life so differently, whose simple life
affected many people. This little boy of mine, touches me
in so many ways.

Last week, he asked me what sport he could play, and knowing that he
is not co-ordinated at all, (he could not figure out how to use a 'slip
and slide' at a birthday party, even though he tried
so many times, he could not propel himself down the slide) So . . . .

I told him that he could be a track star.

He looked amazed when I told him that running actually was a sport,
he smiled with those grey eyes, and said, "Mommy, I already know how
to run"

So today and yesterday and yes, I am sure tomorrow...... he took his
tennis shoes, and let me put them on, then on the sidewalk he
crouched down, with his little fingers pressed on the cement......
ready......then putting his little bottom in the air......... get set
and go........and off he went down the street, running like the wind,
swaying from side to side in his old familiar way.
It's a sight to see.

Then, at the end of the street, he stops, turns and repeats the
process, ready. get set, go...........

As I watched him today, I envied him sort of. This is his goal right
now, to be the fastest man in the world, and he will continue to do this
ritual day after day, without any worry that there are others faster, or
better,he will just be content to run and run. Because as he said,
"I already know how to run........."

How wonderful it would be if life could be like that for us all, set a
goal and start on it, not worrying what others may say, or listening to
their comments
How much I envy the simple life my son has, and the sheer joy of
his spirit,

As he turns and waves, and runs down the sidewalk, for the tenth time
today I see a boy who is going places, where that may be, I cannot say, but
I know he will get there, and I want to be the first in line to say, "I'm so proud of you"
> Sally

A Lesson For Dhylan

We had one of those experiences today, well two actually but the first
one was with Dhylan, we came out of Harmons, and as I went to put the
key in, to get in the car, I noticed he had his hands behind his back,
(not a good sign)
I asked him what he had there, and he burst into tears,
"I forgot I had this in my hand!" It was a Buzz lightyear magazine, I
told him we had to go back inside and talk to the manager about it, so
we trudged back in to hand it over and
'chat ' with the manager. I felt really bad for Dhylan he was sooooo
worried, but I knew I had to teach him that stealing was wrong, so the
manager talked quite sternly to him, and the tears were falling all over
the place. Poor kid,
but I think that he learned not to take stuff, or 'forget' that he had
something in his hand.
And I told him that when Daddy got home, he would have to tell him what
he had done.

Then we went to the bank, to make a very large withdrawal
we had bought a new washer on a three months same as cash deal, and so we
had the money in the bank,
I asked her for 1.180
and while she was getting it we were chatting, and she mentioned that
she was taking allergy medicine and was feeling a bit dingy,
welllllllll when I got back to my car to check the money, she had given
me $1.880, just 700 dollars too much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I told Dhylan we needed to go back into the bank and tell her that we
had $7oo dollars too much, that was not ours.
So we trudged back into the bank and handed it back, and went on our
merry way.

But when we got home, the first thing Dhylan said to his Daddy
was........"Mommy stole 800 dollars from the bank!"

what a kid, do you think my lesson helped him at all??

nah!!!!! it went over his little aspie head.

see you soon

Just To Make Sure

He was perfect
thats what they told me
so I unwrapped him gently
counted ten fingers
ten little toes. . . .
just to be sure.

When I brought him home
I rocked him softly,
told him who he would be
when he grew up
and I wrote it down
just to make sure.

As he grew his smile
used to light up the room
and his eyes were warm
like a grey dove, and I
whispered how much I loved him
and I told him again
just to make sure.

When they told me he was different
that he would always be so,
I cried in the dark hours
turned my face to the wall.
I called his name in the morning
and touched his face softly
just to make sure.

They told me he was perfect
that day when I bore him,
I counted his toes, fingers
and whispered his name,
But isn't it so that all children are perfect?
for in them lies the innocence and
purity of heart.
And we who can raise them are so simply blessed.
Each moment is treasured, each day a sweet gift.
So each day that God' grants me,
I hold my son closely, laugh with him, cry for him
and whisper a prayer.
And I tell him I love him and that he is perfect

just to make sure.

c. sally meyer 2001


I walked this way once, long ago,
when life was oh so different.
That was a time when I
walked without worry, without fear.
Now I walk a different path
a road I took because of a small child
who needs me, to tag along.

I could not know, in those days
that life could ever be as hard
or as soft, I walked with my eyes straight ahead,
never looking to the left or the right
I knew where I was going back then.

He changed all that, I have no map now
no guide, but for a few books
on my dresser and advice from
well meaning friends.
I have no compass, no direction,
Just him and me
going who knows where.

But no matter, I will not spend my days
wondering where our lives will take us.
For there are flowers waiting to be picked
and songs to learn on Sunday afternoons.
Fireflies to catch in the summer,
and leaves to watch as they turn in the fall.
I will not look too far ahead,
for it is now, that matters.
My little one cares nothing for tomorrow
and for him there are no yesterdays.
I used to know where I was going,
Now, I am just happy to be here.

copyright 2000 Sally Meyer.

I Am Going On A Journey

I am going on a journey

I'm going on a journey
won't you come along?
I need someone to help me
a person big and strong.

I'm walking on my journey
but my feet are very small,
can you stand beside me
and catch me if I fall?

At times when I can't keep up
with life and all it's fears,
can you put me on your shoulders
and wipe away my tears?

When the steps I take aren't big enough
and its hard for me to grow.
I know I can depend on you
to let me take it slow.

I know that you're the one I need,
to help me every day,
so take my hand and hold it tight . .
help me along the way.

I'm going on a journey,
please. . . won't you walk with me?
I need someone who understands
the place where I should be.

I promise when the road is tough
and you want to turn back home.
I will hold your hand real tight,
so you won't feel so alone.

I'm going on a journey
I don't know where it ends,
but if we walk together,
we can always be best friends.

And when the journey's over
and we find where we should be.
I know that you will be so glad,
you took this path with me.

I'm going on a journey
please won't you come along
I need someone to guide me
a parent big and strong.

always.... for Dhylan

copyright 2000 Sally Meyer.

They call them teachers.

But I call them so much more.
I call them magicians, for they took
my child, ragged around the edges,
and smoothed his little soul.
I call them friends, for it is to them that
I turn, when I cannot take it anymore
and I want to run away.
I call them peacemakers, for they
stand beside me against the world.
I call them mentors, for through their teachings
I have learned how to reach my child,
how to be patient, how to love unconditionally.
I call them my saviors, because of them
I can take a walk alone, regroup and pray,
for I know that my child is safe in their care.
I call them my sisters and brothers,
for we are one family, together on this path.
Walking hand in hand with this little child,
this child with the shining eyes,
who we are all trying to reach.

They call them teachers.. . . .

I call them . . . . wonderful.

Sally Meyer.

How did it all begin?
I was seated in a spacious room, with many other women, the room was
adorned with beautiful paintings of children, the beauty and innocence of
faces lent an atmosphere of wondrous joy to the room. Silence permeated
the air,
as we sat together, no one uttered a word, and I wondered why we were
The sound of a door opening behind me broke the silence, no one turned to
we all remained perfectly still, there was a reverence in the air, a
feeling of great
joy. I felt someone touch my shoulder, and rising immediately I followed
others who were chosen, and we made our way softly out of the capacious
Walking along a narrow hallway, lined with mirrors framed in gold, we
beneath twinkling chandeliers that sparkled overhead.
We were led into another room even more prodigious than the first, and it
so dimly lit that I stumbled slightly as I entered. As the last woman
through the door, it closed softly behind us.
An audible gasp emanated from all who stood within that exquisite room,
there, before us were a chorus of children. They were clothed as we were
purest white, and they stood hand in hand softly singing. Their faces
with a beauty that defied description. A hush fell upon us as we gazed
in awe,
at the wondrous sight before us. No words were spoken, for mere words
not describe the scene that we beheld that night.
A voice came from the back of the room, a soft, compelling voice, we
around us, but could not see who was speaking.
"Heed well my words dear sisters, for you have been chosen to receive
children. One day you will become the mothers of the children you see
before you
now. These children that stand so glorious in their perfection are the
children that will be your own.
These children will struggle in their mortal lives. Some will be blind,
some deaf,
or unable to speak. Others will battle with a body that will fail them.
Some will
never understand the world to which they are sent. Many of these
children will
become ill, victims of illness and disease Then there will be those
who, while they
are born perfect and whole, will suddenly and without warning be taken
your arms.
You will weep a thousand tears as you wonder why, you will fall to your
in despair, because you will not remember this day, or the perfect
children you see
before you now. Your journey will be hard, your road a long and
difficult one.
You may stumble and your steps falter as you struggle to carry on. But
not, for I will be with you always, my peace will remain with you and you
be blessed with great joy that other mothers may never know. You will
have the
knowledge that your child will return to me, to become perfect and whole
as you see them now. You will learn patience, grace and charity Your
will not go unanswered, for I will not leave you alone, to care for
these, my
favored of all children, who will be entrusted to your care. I will
comfort you in
your darkest hours. I will be with you in your sorrow, and weep with
you as
you grieve.
Now go forward and choose."
I watched as other mothers moved slowly forward, mingling with the
children, I
watched them choose carefully that child who would be their own. Once
again a
light touch prompted me to action, and I walked among the children. There
so many, each so beautiful, how would I know? how could I choose?
For the third time that evening, I felt a gentle touch, and I turned to
see a small
boy standing before me. His eyes were of the deepest grey, they seared
my soul
as they looked up into mine. Kneeling down in front of him, I caressed
the dark
curls that framed his innocent face. Taking his small hand in mine, I
kissed it
gently. As I gazed into this beautiful face, recognition overwhelmed me,
smiled and spoke softly and with the voice of an angel, he uttered just
one word .
. . . .
"Mother" . . . . . . . .

(an excerpt from the upcoming book 'One More Blessing" the story of a
boy and his struggle with autism.)
By Sally Meyer.
C. 1996 no part of this story may be reproduced without permission from

I am not alone

I am not alone
on this journey,
look over there. . .
I see someone familiar
Is it me?
No, but she wears the same face
and her eyes tell her story
just like mine.

I am not alone
I walk towards her and she smiles
I look into her eyes and see sorrow there
but in the depths there is courage
I recognize its strength
I forged my own, not long ago.

I am not alone
we sit together and talk,
our tears run freely and we understand
the pain, the heartache and the fear.
And somehow our hearts are lighter
because they beat to the same melody.

I am not alone
see over there
a hundred..... no even more
a thousand parents
all wearing the same face.
And walking the same path.

We are not alone.

By Sally Meyer



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