The Autistic Prophet: Recollections from His Agnostic Mother
Written by Ann Bauer in Salon:
The first time it happened, he was sitting in the kitchen behind me. I was at the counter cutting vegetables for dinner when my older son said, “When God talked to me earlier today, before I went to school…”
That’s how he spoke as a child. He was only 11, but his diction was formal, biblical almost, and he habitually attached clauses to make his points more precise. If he heard from God, it would be important to know not only that it was today and that it was early but also that it had occurred before school.
I turned. “What did he say?” I asked. But Andrew was already gone, concentrating on something midair, eyes soft behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “Sweetheart?” Then I fell silent, too, forcing myself not to prod. Andrew has autism, and I’d learned that repeating a question only increased the amount of time he needed for mental processing. Patience — or even just the appearance of it — was the only way to get through.
