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墨書 Inktalez
The sky darkened again.
“Wife, I’m at Daan’s house,” my husband said, his eyes red and swollen, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion.
“What are you doing there?” My heart sank as I pressed him urgently.
“I... I saw our son, I... I... I just couldn’t take it...” He suddenly lowered his head, covering his face and eyes with his hands, breaking down into sobs.
“How could you be so selfish? Leaving me alone to take care of him!”
Tears streamed down my face again, my heart feeling tightly squeezed, gasping for breath, the pain twisting inside me.
Everything around us was engulfed in silence, only our breaths and soft sobs echoed in the air.
“Wife, what... what should I do... what can I do?”
Looking at the video of the man who was crying with his face covered, disheveled hair, and unshaven face—he seemed to have aged ten years in just a few days—I knew that the son he had always been proud of had suddenly become someone who might rely on others for a lifetime. His helplessness and despair were palpable.
Because I felt the same way inside.
“We will always be by your side, Haohao,” I silently chanted in my heart, trying to dispel the shadows of fear.
After a few days alone, my husband returned to me and our child.
He constantly made phone calls, inquiring everywhere, consulting doctors from the Developmental Behavioral Department, communicating with teachers from the Special Education School, and exchanging experiences with parents of children with Autism.
He watched various videos and reports about Autism without giving himself a moment's rest!
Sunlight filtered through the treetops, casting dappled shadows on the paths of the community.
“Xiao Min, I heard about your son Haohao...” Aunt Zhang, the neighbor’s tone carried an unmistakable hint of curiosity and distance as her gaze wandered over my face, seemingly searching for some unusual trace.
I forced a smile and nodded, but inside I felt a mix of emotions. I had gone through many such conversations in recent days.
Weicong also sensed this change. He often fell silent.
In the community park, the laughter of children echoed around us, but Haohao always played alone.
Watching his lonely figure made my heart ache like a knife.
“Look, that’s Xiao Min’s child; he’s sick.”
“Oh, that child is so beautiful; no one in our community doesn’t know him! How could this happen...”
“Exactly! So many families envy him! But do you think this is like an apple bitten by God? Haha...”
I heard whispers not far away. I wanted so much to rush over and tell them that Haohao was just different.
"Xiao Min, we can't go on like this. We have to do something," he suddenly broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of determination.
We began searching for suitable intervention agencies for Haohao and learned about various family intervention courses online, also purchasing a large number of related books.
We decided to follow the doctor's advice, seizing the golden intervention period to provide deep family companionship.
On a weekend evening, our home was bustling with activity as relatives were invited from all directions to gather in our living room. The sounds of children's laughter, adults' conversations, and the sizzling from the kitchen mixed together.
Haohao sat alone in the corner, tightly gripping his toy, his eyes filled with confusion and unease.
"Haohao, come here! It’s more fun to play with your siblings!" I gently stroked his soft hair, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the crowd with a light tone.
He ignored me and continued playing by himself.
"Why doesn’t Haohao come over to play? He’s always alone; is there something wrong with him?" At that moment, my husband's uncle's voice suddenly rang out.
My anger surged, but more than that, I felt helpless and heartbroken. I turned around to look at him and tried to speak in a calm tone: "Haohao... he just isn't used to playing with so many people."
"Not used to it?" The uncle's voice rose. "Has this child been spoiled? If you keep pampering him like this, how will he stand on his own in society in the future?"
I saw the misunderstanding in his eyes, even a hint of disdain.
Weicong walked over to me and gently squeezed my hand. "Uncle, my son has Autism; he needs our understanding and support," Weicong whispered as quietly as possible so that Haohao wouldn't hear.
The living room suddenly fell silent, all eyes focused on us.
"Autism?" Dad quietly broke the silence, "What kind of illness is that? Can it be treated?"
I took a deep breath and walked up to him.
"Dad, Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder. It is not an illness, but a different way of perceiving and expressing."
I patiently explained, hoping to dispel their misunderstandings.
"Alright, alright, hurry and call Haohao to eat!" Mom's cheerful voice broke the awkward atmosphere.
I looked out at the night sky; the stars continued to twinkle, as if telling us that every child is unique and their existence is a miracle in itself.
We need to learn to understand, to accept, and to truly feel their world.
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