Right now we are having work done on our house. Good stuff we’ve wanted to do, and so far we are having good luck with the contractors coming by day when our son with autism is out of the house at his community program.
This evening Melissa and I were having a glass of wine. Joey was on his computer down the hall. It was peaceful even with a bit of disarray from the projects.
All of a sudden Joey let out a throaty bellow. I jumped up and ran down the hall, expecting to find him on the floor from a seizure.
But he was on the office swivel chair, smiling. Apparently, the sound was just him trying to imitate this:
He saw my agitated face and, as is his norm, started chuckling. I huffed and puffed and stammered something like “Oh you like Michael Bolton.”
I went back and tried to resume wine inhalation. But Joey came out into the front room all smiles to say,
“You like Michael Golden.”
Yeah, Golden, Bolton, whatev.
Caregivers resonate more with these lyrics (forgive the @#$^@!!^ AARP commercial if it pops up):
In the night I hear you speak
Turn around, you’re in my sleep
Feel your hands inside my soul
You’re holding on and you won’t let go
I’ve tried running but there’s no escape
Can’t bend them, and I just can’t break these….
Steel bars, wrapped all around me
I’ve been your prisoner since the day you found me
I’m bound forever, till the end of time
Steel bars wrapped around this heart of mine