I long ago became a master of acceptance when it came to Isaiah.
There had been signs such as missed milestones and delayed speech. He formed quirks; I was unable to understand at the time, but in the years that have since passed I have come to cherish them. He struggles socially but is a whiz kid in mathematics, especially awe-inspiring in geometry.
If I wear certain shapes on my being it allows him to express thoughts and feelings more openly. When he becomes inundated with particular social situations, he will use geometry to quell his stress.
Enough of that woolgathering. It’s important to have a schedule to adhere to…Isaiah depends on it to feel safe in the predictability of his home.
Isaiah came downstairs in the morning at the sure-fire time of 7:15 am. Unexpectedly I dropped my coffee cup on the floor; it was cacophonous, and it startled him. Pieces of ceramic bestrewed across the floor; I then erroneously released an expletive from my lips. My son looked at me and blurted out, “Stop! You’re firing triangles into the air, cold, icy triangles!”
“Isaiah, I’m sorry. I just broke my coffee cup.” His eyes focused on my sphere-shaped earrings.
“It’s OK, mother, your sweeping of the floor is now focused circles.” His calm tone spilled out of him, onto me. Sudden thoughts left my clean up at a standstill.
Is it strange for him to live in a geometric world? Perhaps not. I stand in front of him on a cubic tiled floor, I drink out of my globular cup. This is something he could always count on.
He inspires in youth a sense of possibility and in me a sense of greenness because he views the world with a different set of eyes. He’s contentedly home in his triangular-quadrate-spherical world. I’m simply happy to report that his mother fits squarely in it.