him, I can’t.
Is there even a home without him?
I get a text message from Mason's mom asking me to move the appointment to eleven my time instead of three in the afternoon.
“Yes, no problem,” I text her back.
After getting my computer, I open it and log onto FaceTime. Fifteen minutes later, I call her and see her and Mason sitting at a dining room table in their house. As soon as Mason sees me, a big wide smile comes across his face. He waves and says hi, something that we had been working on before my trip.
Kelly starts to ask me something about my trip, but Mason is too excited to see me so we start right away.
I'm fine with that.
The less I tell people about where I am, the better.
Working on speech therapy over video is a little bit more challenging than it is in real life, but Mason is one of my calmest and easy-going students. Kelly has a few toys set up in front of him and we begin with the modeling. Modeling is when I narrate to the child what he's doing as he plays with the toys.
When he takes out a leopard from his bed, I say, “Out,” and when he puts it back in, I say, “In.”
When he makes the leopard jump on top of the play set, I say, “Leopard is on,” and so on.
Five minutes later, Mason gets bored with the animals, so we move on to a Peppa Pig house, and then move on to blowing bubbles. This has been particularly challenging for him since he has an oral motor delay, but I can see that he has been practicing. His lips are always coming together into the circle and he even manages to make a few O’s.
“That was really good! I'm really proud of you,” I say as he claps for himself.
6
Tyler
When I was younger, my mother used to tell me that animals knew when storms were coming. They could feel the change in the magnetic field or the electricity in the air and they would scatter and start to prepare for the upcoming change in the weather.
I'm not sure if she actually believed that or it was just something that she heard was a nice thing to say. What I know is that I believe it.
I know that animals have an intuition in them that we lack as humans, especially if we are kept away from nature. That was the worst thing about being in prison.
My cell was a concrete box and the hallways were concrete rectangles. When I got an hour of exercise in the yard, I had fresh air, but that was it.
The walls were made of barbed wire. After a while, even the birds stopped showing up for visits.
After years in that place, I couldn't wait to get out.
If I dared to let myself dream, I would find a cabin in the forest or valley, surrounded by mountains, with nothing but acres and acres of raw land between me and the next human life. Unless of course, that person is Isabelle.
I didn't sleep well last night because my shoulder ached. I finally managed to get a bit of shut-eye around six this morning.
When I wake up, I hear her talking downstairs on the computer. I get up and walk out onto the landing and listen closely.
From here, I can see her screen and the little boy on it. He's got long blonde hair that frames his face as if it were a lion's mane.
He's playing with his toys as Isabelle tells him what he's doing. I have never seen speech therapy done before and Isabelle is patient and calm. She repeats herself over and over again for close to an hour. She doesn't get frustrated when the boy doesn’t get something right. She just keeps going.
I have never seen her work, but I can tell that this is something that she was meant to do.
“That was incredible,” I say after she closes the computer.
Her shoulders shoot up as she looks up, startled.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”
“No, it's okay. I just had no idea that you were there. How long were you watching?”
“The whole time. I hope that's okay.”
“Yes, of course. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, but it was time for me to get up anyway.”
She laughs and asks if I want to have lunch. My stomach rumbles and I head downstairs holding onto the railing. Sometimes, sitting in one place, it's easy to forget about