Speaking Italy

I never knew tweed blazers with leather elbow patches came in such variations. I guess I’m getting older if this man and I have the same haircut. I’m jelous of his curls. Pause. We sit at the sub stations, library square, the bridge steps. We walk through backstreets and sit together on the skytrain. I rarely feel small even when I’m at basketball practice with 13 lebron built african dudes. 

“Do you speak Italy?” 

No I do not. Italy is big and it’s pride is even bigger. I once saw a bumper sticker that had the italian flag wrapped around a horse and in big blocked cursive writing.. “Italian Stallion”. I hope you see the connection. I meet him, usually at the plaza where he walks back and forth on the bricks mumbling words of italia, italia. 

“Hey Italy” 

For just a second he looks up from the ground.

“Do you speak Italy?” 

“No I don’t, come sit with me” 

As usual we stare through the sun roof at the plaza and he mumbles and screams words of Italia, Italia. Every now and then He’ll acknowledge my existence and smack me on the shoulder and smile. I ignore his behaviour, and he repeats and repeats. I snap my head and give him a stern look, and grab his hand. I raise it in the air the same way he does before he smacks me. I gently place it back on my shoulder. I place my hand on his shoulder, and I smile. 

“Great, italia” 

We go everywhere, time warp through the city in an hour. Then he walks off, somewhere. But he doesn’t let me walk with him. 

The next day, He’s not at the plaza. I train over to the sub station and he’s not there. Those are the only two places we meet. I go back to the plaza and wait for about an hour. Still, no Italy. 

“Do you speak Italy?”.. 

I look over at him and he’s sitting near a man. I start to walk over and I see him raise his arm at the man and I start to run. 2 strides in I stopped. He places his hand on the mans shoulder, and places the mans hand on his shoulder. 

“Amico, Italia” 

“Hey Italy!” 

He gets up without even looking at me, turns and walks towards me. Mumbling words of Italia, Italia. 

“Do you friend Italia?” 

“Amico, Italy, Friend”  - God is Love

See you soon Italy, Italy. 

Autism is a disorder of neural development characterized by impaired social interaction and communication, and by restricted and repetitive behavior.. Wiki-it if you ain't wit it.

I've been blessed to have this job working with people with autism. In order for my teaching to be successful, I have to love it. In order to be successful at anything, you gotta do it for the love, first.