So this kid does not talk at the age when my son was able to talk quite well. He has a history like we all do, maybe one he will never know. We started with me repeating his name – for which he would not react. For the first minutes of our interaction I thought that we were repeating the same routine and that our day will just run like that. Our interaction seemed a circle of him pushing me when he saw me, not reacting to the words when he was turned in other direction. So I stopped to ask for his attention with words and followed where he walked. We walked and visited spaces. We climbed the stairs, walked corridors, visited rooms. He kept holding my finger while walking – I followed for a while. We went to eat something. We went to drink something. The more he wanted to do, the more I would not guess and not understand what he wanted. So he tried to explain me what he wanted, he tried to led me, to show me how I should behave. He took objects and put them into my hands to show how to do the things he wanted. How to pour a water to drink. How to put a cookie on his plate. With every action his attention was more and more turned to us – he and the man who does not understand the silence, who does not know what should be done.
He wanted to play with water and took my hand to start the tap. I refused. I took his hand and started tap with his hand. The water flew over his hands. He played with it. I stood there with the towel waiting for the end of the play. As it took longer I put the towel on the side of the sink.
When we came back and the water was again flowing on his hands he stopped the play and went in search of something. He took the towel and put it where I have put it before we started the first game. Then he started to do other things.
At some point of time he climbed on me. He hug me and hung on my arm afterwards. I could not see his eyes. But in the whole situation there was something reminiscent of me and my own son within his gesture, within me. The promises I keep. The other kids came to play with me, and we did that for few minutes during which he remained the light burden of warm silence hanging on my arm.
When we went to say goodbye – he hold my finger in his hand for few very long moments looking at me with peaceful attention I did not see him having before. Then I reminded myself that somehow I forgot to introduce myself to him. I pointed finger at me and said my name. I pointed finger at him and said his name. I have repeated this. He has his name, I have mine.