Don't Be Afraid
As we pass each other at the mall or on the playground or at the doctor's office I can see you staring at me. Perhaps I smiled back at you but you turned away so you you couldn't see my eyes. I sense fear.
I understand fear. I know it by the needle that jabs into my skin. I know it by the solitude of the x-ray room. I know it when my Mom leaves for work each morning. I know it when I see my sister cry. I know it from the uncontrollable muscle spasms I've been having lately. I know it when the lights go out at night.
But why should you fear me? You can't catch what I have unless it's a hug or a big sloppy wet kiss I am always willing to offer. Are you afraid of my drool? I do that a lot but it's nothing to be frightened of. In fact my mouth is cleaner than just about any other child's. Since I wear a diaper I don't touch my privates so there are fewer germs on my hands. I can't pick my nose. And my Mom and Dad rarely let me touch our cat or dog and when I do they wash my hands immediately. I'm willing to guess that I have the cleanest drool around.
Are you afraid of the machines around me? They can't hurt you since they don't hurt me. In fact they are there to make me healthier. I know they make loud noises but so do most 2-year-olds.
Is it because you think I'm different or strange? From what I can see everyone is different. And strange is reserved for the noises my dad makes after eating Hispanic food.
I hear my Dad play a song sometimes. The lyrics* go:
I think that pretty much sums things up. So when you pass by next time, stop and say hello. Look at me for who I am and not for what I am not.
* From the soundtrack Tommy by The Who.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Don't Be Afraid