She lived too far removed from society to understand the limits and bounds of her mind. Suffocated in a sea of expectations, she was cast onto ridiculed shores, beat down and down and down on the rocks of deficiency, and dragged back into deeper waters denied repeatedly the opportunity to surface for air.
She laughed, her stability shaken, and, pausing for the breath she fought to muster, asked, “Why?” Grinning and shaking her head as though the world’s most profound revelation had suddenly dawned on her, “Why does the bird sing?”
Attempting to finish the grocery shopping for her mom, Philipa grew impatient. “What bird Rosie?” She didn’t have time for this today.
“The bird outside; there by the window.” She stared, eyes wide and curious, desperately awaiting the answer. Her foot tapped the floor in a surprisingly consistent beat as the lyrical waves swayed her spirit to meet the song, soaring and free. She hummed softly. Confessing her wrath in beautiful melody, each stroke lifted her with the tide. She had unveiled the truth and she didn’t need Philipa to do it. She didn’t need Philipa to tell her. She didn’t need anyone to tell her and words would not suffice.
Composition draped the clouds, and the symphony she now composed danced on the span of her wings, strong and sturdy. Rising up and up and up, she greeted freedom welcomingly. She was happy – transparently happy.
“Excuse me miss,” interrupted the store manager, “I’m gonna to have to ask you to quiet down if you don’t mind, some of the other customers are startin to complain. Sorry, thanks.”
Weighted with an anchor of restrictions, she sunk down and down and down.
Strangled, twisting and wrenching the neck, jerking the legs, snapping the wings, her body was broken and plucked, and plummeting, struck the water, and instantly, the sincerity of her soul was shattered. “Why Philipa?” Her sanity was now in question. The ebb and flow of her emotions crashing against her mind’s expression. “Philipa!” She was now fully submerged and drowning, beat down and down and down on the rocks of insanity.
According to PubMed Health, “Autism is a developmental disorder that appears in the first three years of life, and affects the brain’s normal development of social and communication skills.”
Like others with autism, Rosie “‘acts up’ with intense tantrums, gets stuck on a single topic or task (perseveration), has a short attention span, has very narrow interests, is overactive or very passive, shows aggression to others or self, shows a strong need for sameness, and uses repetitive body movements (PubMed Health).”
Philipa told me about this day in the grocery store with her autistic sister, Rosie. Philipa was annoyed with Rosie’s belaboring questions and did not have the patience that day to deal with her behavior. After the store manager asked Rosie to please stop dancing and humming, she broke down into a fit of rage and confusion. First embarrassed by her sister’s tantrum, Philipa grew angry as well, ushering Rosie to a more secluded section of the store, playing “mom” to a sister older in years, but much younger intellectually.
“I realized in that moment how absurd I was being. She couldn’t help it. She just asked a question and she just wanted to dance; nothing more.”
Philipa and Rosie left the store, returned home, and ate dinner as a family, mom, dad, and younger brother, Leon. No one spoke of the incident in the store. It didn’t matter. Rosie was happy and that’s all that mattered.
“I really wish I knew what was going on in her head. Sometimes I think she understands things better than I do… like she sees the world for all its beauty and none of the bad things or pain or hurt, but has just the most intense emotions at the same time.
I’ll never forget that day in the store. I mean she threw tantrums all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy and peaceful. All I know is I don’t ever want to forget that moment.”
Philipa got a tattoo on her forearm to make sure that she, in fact, never did forget that moment. The image she created involved the autism puzzle piece with the silhouette of small birds breaking the border of the piece and flying outside of its containment.
From then on, whenever Rosie threw a tantrum or Philipa complained of the hardships in her own life, she would look at her arm and was immediately brought down and down and down to what really mattered.
Pen and Needle 