Lynette Louise



Judging myself as better than you,

is an unhappy thought,

and makes me not,

better. Its true!

Today I was walking, as I often am, through the airport. I rolled my, two neurofeedback one personal computer case, behind me and slung my overweight satchel from shoulder to shoulder as I picked up the pace in order to not miss my flight. While I was zipping between people I mentally flipped through the last few days of fun and frolic. In other words I’d been working (My work is play. How cool is that?). I remembered the non-verbal young man I’d been working with who loaded my car up till it overflowed with all his toys and treasures: trying to give me his things cause it was easier than giving me his words. My heart was full of amazement at how hard he’d tried. He’d done all he could to make his throat obey him in order to do what I asked and then – giving up (for now) – added to the car pile by trying to fill my suitcase with all his clothes. – And they say autistic kids don’t care about people!?!? – I remembered the show I’d just done and how great it had been to see my son. He lives so far away from me that, having him be a not totally attentive (mom’s telling that story about me again… maybe I’ll go pee) member of the audience, was worth the trip to this sweet little theater. (Though I have to admit that I did find the big crunchy bag of plastic bag rumbling Doritos a little distracting. Still I was proud, when I remembered, that he wasn’t making sound affects and that not making sound affects was so much more than he could ever have done for me before. I located my gate and went back to my checklist of joy.

I thought about the laughs Rye (Doritos man/son) and I had had while making the video about how far Rye (very noisy Doritos man/son) had come out of autism. I thought about how proud 22 year old Rye (very noisy Doritos man/son whom I forgive) was to be living on his own, running his own business and successfully paying his bills. The airline announcement about keeping track of ones own bags interrupted my thoughts and I started listening for the call to board, excited to be heading home. I felt my eyes sparkle as the smile of “man I’m lucky to live in California and have such a blessed life full of children” settled warm on my face.

My eyes landed on an older woman with a down turned expression, sloping shoulders and a depression driven droop. I thought, actually, this one was more like a feeling than a thought. That’s how I keep secrets from myself. But I guess it doesn’t work because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to tell you about it. Any way, I ‘felt’ myself think: that my smile meant I’d found better, kinder more beautiful life than her. I leaned against the wall, satisfied and I waited, for my ‘zone’ to board.

Not more than ten seconds later a man interrupted my blank stare of exhaustion with some advice. “Come on hon. You look like a statue. Smile!” I’m sure I scared the heck out of him as I cracked up and fell over laughing. Nothing like seeing yourself through they eyes of another to make you realize how funny you are!


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