I think most of you know that I’ve written another book. This one is filled with essays about life with my son, John Henry, who is the brightest light in my life.
John Henry is bright, tall, funny, mysterious, handsome, and maybe the sweetest soul I’ve ever encountered. He also has level III autism and is non-speaking. Parenting him has been the best, happiest, hardest, most terrifying, and the most multi-faceted experience of my life and continues to be. There are parts of our days that are extreme due to his differences. But ultimately, I don’t know any parent who wouldn’t describe their journey with their children just as I’ve described mine. A friend said it best when I gave her an advance copy of I Dream He Talks to Me to read: “I know that the circumstances aren’t the same, but I see myself in your book.” Whether we’re dealing with autism or our children are what the world considers typical — they each have special needs and unique ways of letting us know what they are. We don’t always have the answers, in fact, we rarely do. This is a book about what it feels like to struggle through it, celebrate it, cry, laugh, and shake your head in amazement at the depth of it all.
Here is the absolutely breathtaking cover. And here is the link to pre-order it before it comes out on October 12, 2021. The wonderful artist Stephanie Spradling painted this image of John Henry based on a few that I sent her. It brings me to tears every
time I look at it. She captured him perfectly, down to the bare left foot. When you read the book, you’ll know why that’s an important detail.
I love the cover, myself. Truly beautiful. I have no doubt every word within will be so, as well. Congratulations! So happy and proud for you, AM! Already ordered mine. JB
I wrote a comment the other day but I don’t know what happened to it. I’m still getting used to this Substack☺️
I was think about what you had written about your new book over breakfast as I was watching a bird of prey circle over the fields behind where I live. Everyday he sits on a telephone pole, surveying his domain and looking for a mouse or some other small creature. Occasionally a pair of crowd intimidates him and they end up swirling and tumbling in a dogfight which never ends in violence.
Day after day this goes on. And I thought just like JH, who are we to judge the quality of life of other creatures or people who are different from us, special somehow. Is what’s happened in their minds any less worthy than what’s happening in ours? No. We are all part of that diversity of creation. ♥️