kind of like me

.

There is a little girl at Kendall’s school who she knows from preschool. Let’s call her Clara.

Clara is an absolute delight. She is smart and sweet and engaging. Like Kendall, she is on the spectrum. Also like Kendall, she is a social creature who seems to thrive on interaction.

Clara is Kendall’s friend.

I don’t mean to say that she is a kid in school who we refer to as a ‘friend’ – like when the kids sit down for circle time and the teacher says, ‘Good morning, friends’ – or like when we set up playdates with classmates that she barely knows and we say, ‘your friend is coming over to play today.’ I mean that this little girl is Kendall’s FRIEND.

They have a language of their own. They gleefully follow one another around the playground. They make each other laugh.

I hear and read a lot about young people on the spectrum experiencing significant anxiety as they become aware of their differences and often feel alienated from their peers. If Kendall is aware of her differences she is not in a position to express it to us. I have always assumed – hoped, I guess, that she simply never had reason to notice. When her awkward attempts to engage new friends don’t work, she simply walks away. I’ve never seen her visibly upset by a failure to interact. She looks a little lost sometimes, even confused, but not upset.

My heart breaks, but hers doesn’t seem to. I have found solace in that. Ignorance is bliss.

But it looks like there is a budding awareness now. Kendall must have asked the question fifteen times over the weekend. No, I’m not exaggerating. That’s what she does.

The question was, ‘Am I kind of like Clara?’

Now I have to admit that I don’t know what she’s really asking. I have tried to push for more, but she offers no explanation. Perhaps the question is really as simple as, ‘Do we both have brown hair?’ or ‘Are we both girls?’ Maybe she’s wondering,  ’Are we both kindergarteners?’

But perhaps there is more. Perhaps there is there a recognition of a connection beyond the surface. Maybe Kendall sees something in Clara that she recognizes in herself.

What a perfectly wondrous thing this is – the realization, not of difference, but of commonality. Don’t we all just want a friend who is kind of like us? Someone who understands our experience?

I should have known my little miracle would find a way to take my worry and turn it on its head. She always does. Cause you know, she doesn’t always do what people expect her to do. Because she’s kind of like me.