My mommy bought two green swings and my daddy hung them where the yellow ones used to be. I know they got them because my baby sister is learning how to swing by herself now, but I am so glad to have swings again. The yellow swing broke a long time ago and I haven't swung since. I don't like the playground swings. They feel different when I sit on them. And, I am usually not alone in a park and I don't want to take the chance that someone may want to take my swing. I don't like to take turns. I like to relax when I swing but if I have to share the swing it isn't relaxing at all.
I like to swing in my backyard all by myself. I like to swing after school, it helps me switch out of school mode and ease into home. I swing back and forth and back and forth and it helps me feel all put back together again like a finished puzzle. Then I feel calm.
From the swing, I can see the trees standing tall across from me. I like to try to reach them with my toes as I swing forward. When it is windy out, the trees sway back and forth and the branches even more so, like they are waving at me.
When I was really little, I used to giggle when it was windy out. The leaves would fall off the trees and spin down like little helicopters. On a really windy day, there would be lots and lots of leaves and pine needles fluttering down and I would just laugh and laugh. As I looked at them dancing in the sky and the trees waving to me, it was like it was like they are throwing a party from the sky and inviting me to join them. As I tried to take it all in, it tickled my eyes and I would giggle.
Now I like the sound of the wind as well. When the wind comes through, the trees all move back and forth and the sound they make reminds me of a peacock fluttering it's feathers up high. Most people don't know what sounds peacocks make, but I do. I love them. They are so pretty to look at. The first peacock I saw was in Polar Bear, Polar Bear What Do You Hear. In the middle of the book is a big picture of a beautiful peacock. I used to open the book up wide as I could and leave it open to the peacock so I could look at it.
Now that I am older I learned how to look up peacocks on the internet. I watch videos of them on Youtube and learn all sorts of things about them. They are even prettier in the videos. They move their feathers up and make a ruffling sound when they do it. It sounds just like the trees on a windy day. I figured out how to make the same sound myself using my mouth and tongue. My mom says it is a really good imitation and then she tries to do it too. She isn't as good as me though.
Peacocks also make lots of calling sounds that the Polar Bear book calls "yelping". I call it screaming. My mom and dad don't like it when I make that sound. My little sister and my big brother started making the sound with me and I think that is funny.
I know all the sounds that peacocks make and how they are feeling. I watch them and learn what yelp they make when they are happy, and what yelp they make when they are afraid. Sometimes, I make that yelp when I am afraid, too. Sometimes I become afraid when I try to get the afraid-yelp sound just right and practice it over and over. It's like I'm becoming the peacock.
One day, my mom and my big sister asked me if I was a person or a peacock because I would not stop yelping. I told them I was a peacock and they started laughing really hard. That made me laugh too but I don't know why they started laughing when I answered their question.
Peacocks feathers are all green like the pine needles on the trees outside--except the feathers also have a blue dot in the middle like an eye. I have a puppet peacock that looks like it is for real. When the feathers all lay down, they look like the needles at the end of the branch of a pine tree when the air is still. My mom jokes about putting blue pom-poms in the pine needles on the tree to make it look like there is a peacock in the tree.
I love my puppet peacock and my stuffed peacock. I bring them with me everywhere I go because they are some of my best friends. They remind me of home, the place where I am happy and safe. I can bury my face in their feathers and know that everything will be ok.
(Written by my mom, as she tries to understand what it is like to be 9-year-old-me with autism.)
Post blog: After I posted this, I came home to see that Stevie had been drawing peacocks with chalk in his room. Here is some of his art: