@Eli experiences the world in his own vibrant way. He has severe, nonverbal autism. He can’t speak words, but his thoughts are full of color and feeling. Eli gently rocks back and forth on his bed, a soft smile lighting up his face as he gazes at the window. As he rocks and flaps, the sun paints golden patterns on his blanket, and he feels the warmth on his skin, his eyes fixed on the shifting patterns of sunlight. Every movement matches the rhythm of his heart, and each beam of light feels like a secret only he can see. In the doorway, Mom stands quietly, her presence as soft as the carpet beneath her feet. "Good morning, sunshine. Are you ready for another fun day at school?" Eli flaps his hands, a wide, silent grin spreading across his face, the warmth of the sun blending with the warmth of her voice.
Eli clings tightly to Mom's hand as they walk, his moans rising as the noise grows. He flaps his hands harder, searching for calm amid the chaos. Some kids glance his way, uncertain, but Eli focuses on the thought of painting and building blocks—his favorite part of the day—even if he can't say so out loud. Clutching his backpack, Eli passes the music room, the sound of piano keys drawing him to a pause. He stands in the doorway, swaying as the notes ripple through him, his fingers fluttering with excitement. A teacher waves from down the hall, and Eli responds with a bright, flapping gesture, eager to begin the day.
Ms. Rivera, his favorite teacher, kneels to meet his gaze, her eyes kind and patient. "Hi, Eli! We're so glad you're here. Are you ready to dance in music class today?" Eli rocks on his feet, a joyful yell escaping him, his happiness echoing down the hallway. The teachers smile, and the world feels open and welcoming, every color and sound heightened by his excitement.
Eli sits at a table by the window, his plate piled high with pizza and a bowl of ice cream. He takes a bite, savoring the creamy coldness, and flaps his hands in delight. Though he eats alone, his eyes drift to the teachers and children around him, feeling their presence like a gentle hum in his chest.
Eli runs straight to the swings at recess, shoes kicking up tiny clouds, and climbs on, pumping his legs as he leans back, eyes shut in pure bliss. After a moment, he hops off and heads for the slide, climbing with careful determination before whooshing down, his laughter ringing out. Swing, then slide, again and again—Eli's routine is his comfort. A group of kids watch him, curious but unsure, while Sophie, a kind-hearted girl, nudges her friends and steps closer. "Maybe we could try the swing and slide with Eli. It looks like fun, and he seems really happy," She climbs onto the swing beside him, matching his rhythm, and soon other children join in. When Eli lets out a loud, joyful yell, some kids jump, startled, but Sophie reassures them. "That's just how Eli shows he's happy." The laughter grows, and the children mimic Eli's flapping movements, discovering joy in his way of play.
Eli rocks on his bed after school, iPad in hand, letting the images and sounds help him settle after the busy day. Eli feels a lot of emotions. He is overwhelmed from his stimulating day, and needs to calm down. Eli likes to spend time on his iPad, rocking on his bed, and watching his favorite shows. He feels safe. Mom sits beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, her presence warm and calming. "I love you, Eli. Sweet dreams, my boy." Eli cannot speak the words aloud, but as his eyelids droop and his breathing slows, his heart overflows with love. In his mind, he thinks, "I love you too," and a peaceful smile spreads across his face as he is comforted by the feeling, and drifts to sleep, knowing he is cherished and loved—just like any other child.
