So many autistic people have spoken. Spoken up, spoken out, spoken like a boss. Spoken as though they know what they’re talking about–because they DO.
In the beginning, they gave me a gift: the window to my Within, the login and password to my operating system.
Now that I’ve leveled out my learning curve (for the most part, anyway), these people–and others–come forth and speak for me, too. They’re not meaning to. They’re intending to speak for themselves. But their words and their stories echo and mirror mine.
For a long time, there was a canyon. I stood on one side. The world stood on the other. I could never figure out how to cross it, or even to build a bridge.
But even the Grand Canyon has an “Echo Point”, a place in which you can perch and shout and be heard throughout the land, as far as the…