Lost in the Spectrum

A dot of light for me to see/ is like a million rays of light/ for all my life I'm in the dark.


These are the opening lines of a poem I wrote for my high school paper.  I already forgot the title, the rest of the poem, and what made me wrote those lines more than a decade ago.  Lately, I found myself reciting these lines in my mind because they aptly
describe how I feel now as a parent of a child with autism.


Since my son has been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder in 2008, I've been asking myself:  Will he be able to talk?  Will he ever learn to behave better in public?  Will he be able to finish school?  Will he acquire the skills he needs to lead an independent life?  Will he get a job?  Will he have family of his own?  Can he survive without me or his mom?  I had to entertain gloomy thoughts to remind myself of the great odds that my son has to confront.  It's perhaps easier to believe that everything will be fine, to trust in unseen powers for guidance and deliverance.  But I've been living in a world changed forever by my son's autism long enough to know that it's really a struggle.


And against the backdrop of a dark future, I try to see specks of hope:  He can now imitate animal sounds.  He can identify the colors, and can tolerate coloring pictures albeit with lots of prompting.  He can count.  He can draw simple figures.  He uses simple sentences to make requests.  He does not attempt to escape from a task anymore.  He can read.  He can spell.  His whining is much shorter now.  He does not have a major meltdown in months.  It is these little triumphs that keep me going on finding the other dots of light that will complete that elusive light at end of the tunnel.