On the fourth anniversary of a tough time-
Benjamin has been in a residential program for a week now. His cottage, which is less like a chalet than a fortress, is cheerfully named Applewood. Every door is locked both before and after you pass through it.
The first time I came to see him his legs jiggled like his own personal earthquake. 9.0. Since he has trouble expressing things like emotions and pain, he could not articulate what the past few days had been like. The counselor explained the program and asked what Benjamin enjoys most. That was easy.
"His siblings. Can he call them? It really helps to calm him."
The therapist patiently told me that that was not advisable. I bristled. Later another woman joined us, and told us about how he was doing. She asked if there was anything she could do for our family.
"We would really like it if Ben could call his brothers and sisters."
"Of course," she answered. The first woman disagreed.
"There seem to be mixed messages," John noticed. They looked at each other.
When the two women left, they invited us to spend time alone with Ben. The second woman paused just before she stepped through the door.
"Do you have your phone with you? You can call anyone you like..."
Pow, I touched his brother's name on speed dial.
Benjamin lit up when he heard Zack's voice, and leaped into a string of jokes. Then a sister with more riddles, another brother with a few repeat jokes, a sister, a brother, one more sister.
"Why do seagulls fly over the sea?"
"I don't know, Ben."
"Because if they flew over the bay they would be bagels."
Six calls, in the middle of the day to people who work or attend college Yet all of them were able to answer. What are the odds? It was magical to watch. I wondered if anyone was observing us on security cameras. And changing the policy about contacting siblings.
Yesterday I went to be with him and brought Harry Potter. They have adjusted his meds and he seemed peaceful. He mentioned that he had watched a movie and had sugar cereal for breakfast. We called a couple of his siblings, and I asked if he wanted me to read aloud. Instead he picked up the book and began at the beginning. Which he has heard twenty times before.
I enjoyed his voice and the reverie, while he got lost in the tale of a boy in captivity. Whose powers even he did not understand. Someone trying to choose courage and fortitude in a world that thrashed around him.
Just a coincidence, I'm sure.
The yelling of other patients was muffled by thick walls, and I realized that this was perhaps his first chance to be in a peaceful space all day. He read for forty five minutes, only stopping because the staff said my time was up.
In case you have not finished it, I will mention that Harry makes it, against enormous odds.
I have a feeling that Benjamin will too.
