Field Trip to the Mall

There are certain times when I am reminded that direction in life is something that we impose on ourselves and others.  Art, play, or music has this curious ability to point to more layers of the world than we see.  I was listening to some jazz music today that immediately stretched out the time in front of me, making it seem like all I really have to do is try to dance beautifully in the space provided.   Sometimes there are moments with people where we are not really going anywhere, we’re just dancing.     

Today I accompanied the special needs kids (Jose, Rosa, Lisseth and Tatiana) on a field trip to the mall.  Jose Luiz experienced sensory overload immediately while walking around.  He lost track of his foot movements, his head bobbing and gazing at all of the sounds and colors. Taking the elevator made him squeal and whine in fear while Tatiana’s mouth dropped open and she smiled wider than ear to ear.  

To these children, the mall is the wonder of wonders.  Tatiana’s excitement brought her to her tiptoes as I held her hand trying to quell some of her energy.  She began banging her hands against the glass of the pet store, exhilarated by the cat, the mice and the two dogs, as if to say, “Animals!  I love cats!  I want a cat!” but all that came out was hand movement.

While having a snack at the food court, I checked off some of the items on the development assessment (a list of milestones I observe in the kids) and realized more clearly that Jose Luiz performs at the level of a 1 year old.  If it were up to him, he would lie and giggle in his bed all day.  His biggest talent is smiling, which he does spontaneously and responsively (check, check). 

He currently has a huge bump on his head from Rosa pushing him into a wall, which he didn’t retaliate against.  The other day, Jen witnessed one of the kids, Adriana, biting his hand in the yard below our apartment and couldn’t do anything fast enough to help him, being on the second floor.  Jose whined for a few moments until Adriana stopped, then went back to hobbling around the yard and playing with his doll.  I imagine him wanting to yell, “Hey!!  Help!!” rather than whimper.

I was just informed today that Tatiana has fetal alcohol syndrome and epilepsy.  Her developmental level is around age 5, minus the language development.  Lisseth can speak some words, but she is probably at the level of a 6 or 7 year old, and Rosa may be around the same.  In actuality though, Tatiana is 16, Lisseth is 16, Rosa is 12 and Jose Luiz is 10.

If they could speak, I would love to know what they’re thinking. The more time I spend with them, the more I can tell that they recognize me.  Tatiana will bang her hand against the window as I walk by, or Jose Luiz will begin to gurgle in his throat.  Even Rosa, seems to be coming around and making efforts to play with me. 

In the little therapy pool today Tatiana and I took turns pouring water on each other’s heads, pretending we were giving each other showers.  Her mouth is the source of her expression.  When she gets excited it multiplies to ten times its size.  Meanwhile her hands move rapidly up and down and her feet extend to tiptoeing.  Without words she was saying, “This is so cool!!!!” as Jen put goggles over her face, allowing her to see under water.  As she moved above and underwater, she proclaimed with her face, “I love goggles!!!”

There’s a trampoline in our backyard where the special needs kids can play.  I took some time to jump on it as powerfully and as high as I could.  When I'm with the kids, we're often just playing, but there's moments where it's just pure human interaction, and even fun.  

The moment in the air is one I’d like to repeat my entire life.