my sister

I would like to dedicate this entry to a very important member of my family who I often, unfortunately, overlook: my sister, April. I am always mentioning my brother with regards to some activity that we did together or some accomplishment of his that we’re proud of, and sometimes people don’t even realize that I have a sister. I’m sorry that it has been that way, because she deserves to be given more consideration. As her sister, I should be one of the first ones taking that step. You see, my sister is autistic.

Autism isn’t very well defined. It’s just a kind of pervasive developmental disorder, meaning that most of the abilities that the rest of us take for granted she simply doesn’t have. She can’t read people’s faces to know what they are feeling, she can’t read social signals to know what is appropriate behavior, everything comes to her slowly, anything involving abstract thinking, and even speech is still hard.

It’s been a difficult thing to grow up with—difficult for her because she’s had to overcome so many obstacles (though she’s never demonstrated much self-awareness of the problem), difficult for my parents who have struggled heroically to do everything they can for her and never give up hope, and difficult for me and Noah to accept her and not feel embarrassed by her (we don’t always succeed). We’ve all had our moments of despair, when we cry, “Why can’t she just be normal?!” Most of the time I don’t want to deal with it and I just ignore her. I don’t mention her to people because I don’t want to have to explain every time why something she did may seem insignificant but is actually a big accomplishment for her. Sometimes I don’t even understand. It makes life easier, but I’m not proud of it. She’s my sister. We share… what? 50% of our genes? We grew up in the same family and thus share a lot of memories. I understand her better than most people in the world—when she finally started talking at age four, our own parents had to struggle to understand what words she was trying to form, but I knew exactly what each one meant and could always, always translate. We played together when we were little. Why can’t I, now, find the patience to love her like a sister?

There are those times when something peeks up and reminds me that there’s more to who she is than just the autism. Sometimes what I see beneath there is a personality that I know is very similar to my own, except with traits that are brutally amplified. I see ME in there, which is sometimes frightening, but also really neat. She is my sister. Isn’t is it only natural that we share some personality traits? It means there’s a level that I can relate to her on. It means there are some things I can predict about how she is going to grow up, and from personal experience, give her advice.

Last night I had one of the best conversations that I’ve ever had with her. It was like an awakening pinch. When I first got here, two weeks ago, Noah warned me, “April has developed a sense of humor,” which has been proven, to my delight, several times, but I knew that along with that humor must have come something else. She is growing up, slowly but surely. In the past, it has been frustrating to try to talk with her because she wasn’t able to follow any rational line of reasoning and would rarely be able to understand what you said. She would talk about whatever was in her head regardless of what you wanted to talk about. But it is clear that she has been doing a lot of thinking about life, because there was a beautiful amount of flow and connection happening last night. We talked about real things, shared things about our lives, bonded like any two girls would, and I was able to gain insights into her psyche. I had given her a coupon for Christmas promising to take her out to a movie of her choice and then ice cream afterward, which she had received more enthusiatically than I had expected. We’re going today, so last night she wanted to finalize what exactly we would be doing (we’re going to see Narnia and then go to the new gelato place that my family recently discovered). I asked if she had the book so I could try to finish reading it before we went. She was able to produce it and then asked me what was happening in the part I was currently at, recalling specific details of what happens in the story. Then we got to talking about the writing class she had taken this semester, and she showed me some of her essays, which I was quite impressed by. After that, we got a little more philosophical and discussed some of the ways in which she interprets things that happen in the world around her. She treated what I said very thoughtfully and expressed a desire to consult with me about things more often, wishing desperately that I wouldn’t leave again to go back to school.

My sister is valiently optimistic and holds a romantically idealized view of the world and of our family. She doesn’t understand much about how the world works but fills gaps with magic and imagination. She is deperately sensitive and sentimental. She gets very emotionally involved in things: movies (sometimes to the point where she feels she needs to run out of the room so she doesn’t have to watch), books, tv, new friends, family, opening presents. You guys, if you think I’m hyper and enthusiastic about little things… I simply pale in comparison. She is a deeply good person, always generous, always positive (even if things still tip her off occasionally). I’m learning that I really appreciate that side of her. These are traits that tend to get beat out of you by the time you’re her age—fifteen—or at least you learn to keep them hidden for your own protection. But because she isn’t as aware of the subtle messages that people communicate about appropriate behavior and doesn’t understand how to be subtle herself, she wears her heart right out on her sleeve. She is open and fearless.

Now that's pretty special, isn't it?