AAC’s in Heaven

A phone call from my mom:

“They prayed for you on the pulpit today.”

Huh?

“Well, really they prayed for me.”

What do you mean?

“He asked God that one day you’d be cured,

and that I wouldn’t suffer anymore.”

My dad laughs in the background,

“Isn’t that crazy?”

In front of my sister’s primary class:

A woman I’ve never met  tells me that Jesus will fix me.

“When He returns, you’ll be healed.”

No, thank you.

I don’t have a choice.

“His resurrection will complete you.”

But then I wouldn’t be me.

She laughs, in front of her son,

“You’ll both be better.”

I take my time to ponder:

“Is my existence sin?”

I look around the center,

see the faces I love. 

“Are we not deserving of Heaven,

just the way we are?”

She laughs and laughs and laughs,

“I want more tickles!”

A day in My Heaven:

She uses her AAC the same,

but now everyone stops and listens.

He signs for more time on the swings,

and everyone understands—

no translator necessary.

She still doesn’t talk, but she’s laughing.

She never hits herself again.

MY HEAVEN:

There’s a PECs board

with every picture imaginable,

and you can find the right one

without flipping through too many pages. 

MY HEAVEN: 

Jeans don’t leave rashes,

food has the right texture, 

vacuums are silent. 

MY HEAVEN: 

It’s normal to look in the upper left corner,

rock between the balls of my feet,

flap my hands in excitement.

MY HEAVEN:

My face can stay totally flat.

And I don’t have to adjust my tone

as I repeat lines from TV and movies. 

“If this is Heaven, what am I doing?”

I remove my records 

and laugh until I cry.