A.N.S.

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When you were younger,

you used to violently shake your head and hands when you zoned out,

you lost every staring contest because you couldn’t look your opponent straight in the eye,

your best friends were mom and Batman,

kids at school used to call you "Adumb",

and I thought that was funny.

 

When you got older,

you stuttered a lot,

you compared yourself to your younger sister and hated not her but the fact that she didn’t need to try as hard as you in math,

you made only one good friend at school: the weird kid named Fred who had a big mouth -your best friend was still Batman, though-

your Bulls jerseys and Sox caps read "Soto",

and I avoided you like you told me to.

 

Now you are nineteen,

you don’t trip on your words as much, but you tend to talk over people,

you studied hard to earn and graduate with a 3.2 GPA, without taking the pre-planned general classes,

you make friends wherever you go but manage to make time for your oh-so-special Batman,

your work keycard, UIC school Id., and licence all say Adam Nathaniel Soto,

and I think you look like a goof in every picture.

 

Later in life,

I hope you won’t say something stupid in front of a girl you like,

I hope you get paid well when you’re a physical therapist or whatever,

I really, really, REALLY hope your kids dress as Superman for Halloween,

Everyone will call you successful,

and I’ll finally admit that I’m so proud to have an older brother like you-

autism and all.

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