During a neighborhood picnic, hosted at a neighbor's house, someone walked up to my wife and me and said, "Your son plays the piano well!"
My wife and I ran inside the house expecting to see him rudely banging on our neighbor's piano, but he was actually playing. It wasn't with the skill of Mozart, but it wasn't rudimentary either. It was well above the ability of a kid that, for all we knew, had never even seen a piano.
I asked, "Buddy, where'd you learn to do that?"
"There's a piano in the hallway at school," he said. "Sometimes I play with it."
The first attempt at a piano teacher, well, she stopped the lesson early. She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down a name and number for a professor of music at the local university. "Call her," she said. "For music instruction, your son is out of my league."
I'm sorry if I sound like just another parent bragging about his kid. I don't mean to be. It is an interesting story, even to me. It's like something you'd see on TV. He has a gift.
He has taken lessons for three years - technically. For over a year of that time his ability to play was squashed by heavy doses of drugs. Lexapro, Risperdal, Lamictal... He was stimming so badly, playing was impossible. The frustration for him almost made him give up piano. So, it hasn't been an easy road. It never is, is it?
I'm writing another story. Sorry.
For whoever reads this, I wish you all the best of luck with your autistic child. For us, the past seven years have been a heavy, heavy burden. The stress came within inches of completely destroying this family. But things are looking up now. Life is improving. I hope all of you and your children find the peace and happiness you all deserve.