"Paul must have beentrying to carry his waste paper to garbage can and dropped a few pieces."I1 pickingthem up one by one. However, I found more pieces a few moments later. No quietcomplaining this time. I called out instead, "Who is throwing garbage?"No answer. As a result, I saw more bits of paper quietly flying down fromupstairs. Looking up, I saw my seven-year-old son, Paul.
"Stop making a messanymore!" "It's not a mess. They're2." "Sorry, whatdid you say?" I didn't hear him clearly. He didn't answer me. In fact, Iwas surprised indeed.
Paul has autism (自闭症) and3 answers aquestion, especially when he's focused attentively on something else. He randown the stairs. "Where are my other butterflies?" he asked, lookingaround. Every time Paul4 five or more words together, my heart says alot of thanks. Lately he seems to realize that the benefits of making sentenceswhen communicating are worthy.
"Butterflies, Ofcourse." I rushed to save them from the garbage,5 them offand handed them to my young artist. "Want to see them fly again?" heasked with a shy smile. "Oh yes! They're beautiful." I whispered. Heran back upstairs quickly to fly his6 down again. They really did look likebeautiful butterflies flying in the sky.
That day, I said thanks tomy son. Because Paul reminded me to look up at something7 insteadof down at garbage. How many other artworks do I 8because I'm too caught upin my housework to take time to see what's right in front of me? Life is notwhat happens to us. It's how we look at it. Now, I look up often.
