Bringing Kendall Home
By Jessica Wilson
Editor's note: The opinions expressed herein are those of the author exclusively.
By Jessica Wilson
Editor's note: The opinions expressed herein are those of the author exclusively.
One afternoon on a recent vacation to Nantucket, my family (my husband and our daughters, Darby, 6 1/2 and Kendall, 4 1/2, who has autism) and I took a long, luxurious walk to a sandwich shop, which has a wonderful backyard, for a late lunch.
Kendall was having a particularly rough morning and was not having a real “easy go” of the day. In the yard at the restaurant, there were tons of kids climbing on a big
Kendall was having a particularly rough morning and was not having a real “easy go” of the day. In the yard at the restaurant, there were tons of kids climbing on a big
tree and tossing balls back and forth to each other. Darby jumped right in and effortlessly became a part of the joyful chaos, while Kendall tried in fits and starts to find her place in the madness. She ultimately found comfort picking at the bark of the big climbing tree, seemingly oblivious to the other kids swarming and bumping around her.
Darby took a break from playing with her newest friends and sat with me at a picnic table for a while. She looked over at her little sister and then at me and asked, ‘Mama, when did Kendall go into Kendall Land?” I told her that I wasn't sure exactly, while desperately trying to fight back tears. But her next question, “When will she come out of it?” made that fight impossible to win. I told her I really didn't know that, either, but reminded her that we were all working very hard to help make it happen. With ageless wisdom she looked into my eyes and said, “Mama, if we all work together, we can bring her home. I just know it.”
With her choice of words and the tenderness in them, the steely fight and determination in them, all the greater implications of the concept of ‘bringing her home' just shattered me. Sometimes I wonder how much Darby really understands about the challenges that her sister faces, and then there are the moments in which she transcends even what I think I know.
Her words strengthen my resolve to fight for Kendall and every child like her. I am forever grateful to my older daughter for her innocent grace and I pray that we can all follow her example and work together to bring these kids 'home' to a life without the sometimes crippling frustrations of autism.
Darby took a break from playing with her newest friends and sat with me at a picnic table for a while. She looked over at her little sister and then at me and asked, ‘Mama, when did Kendall go into Kendall Land?” I told her that I wasn't sure exactly, while desperately trying to fight back tears. But her next question, “When will she come out of it?” made that fight impossible to win. I told her I really didn't know that, either, but reminded her that we were all working very hard to help make it happen. With ageless wisdom she looked into my eyes and said, “Mama, if we all work together, we can bring her home. I just know it.”
With her choice of words and the tenderness in them, the steely fight and determination in them, all the greater implications of the concept of ‘bringing her home' just shattered me. Sometimes I wonder how much Darby really understands about the challenges that her sister faces, and then there are the moments in which she transcends even what I think I know.
Her words strengthen my resolve to fight for Kendall and every child like her. I am forever grateful to my older daughter for her innocent grace and I pray that we can all follow her example and work together to bring these kids 'home' to a life without the sometimes crippling frustrations of autism.
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