"The way I'm starting this"

"The way I see it..."Just saying that makes me want to start singing Joni Mitchell "Free Man in Paris". I love to sing. I recently moved into a home with amazing acoustics. I have loved nothing more that singing carols and songs from "Mary Poppins" in this great space. My son Wyatt, not so impressed. Cringes. Skin crawls. He starts to sizzle. Wyatt is 4, almost 5. He was diagnosed with autism when he was almost 3. Sound is something he wants to be in control of. He has no qualms about the screaming and Linda Blair-esque screeching that he makes when provoked. This does not hurt ears. But mommy singing "Amazing Grace" is a blood boiler for Wyatt. And you know what? I get it. Wyatt's sensory aversions, repetitions, soothe-seeking behaviors have taught me all about my own. In many ways, the apple has not fallen that far from the tree. On the great side of things, Wyatt and I both have a wicked memory for words. In me it has meant that I was a great understudy as a kid with an ongoing inherent memory for music. In Wyatt it has meant that he has every book down cold. Knows every turn that needs to be taken on the road and ALWAYS remembers where he left off in any activity he did at some random place a month ago. Just don't turn left when the pattern has been right. So, the way I see it, this is a great place to talk about my life. I'm not just gonna be discussing autism, ad nauseum. There is more to Wyatt and there is more to be said about my life and our lives. But for right now this is where it started. Day one. I just turned 35. I love getting older, for what I might learn. But I will tell you this much. I DO NOT want to die! No! Nopers. Not for me. I will be good if I live to be 105. Then I can call it quits. I know this is quite immature. It likely stems from the tragic day that I learned that we all die. I was 6. It was a blow. My next door neighbor kid said "we're all gonna die someday." To which I replied "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I ran to my dad to fact check this. Not believing some 9 year old. I'm sure my dad was not overjoyed that the mortality lesson got checked off the list so early in the game of life. Since then I have had been humbled several times over by the length and quality of a life. Part of who I am now is shaped by a gone to soon death of my dad and my second child Henry. He came 3 months early, took a breath in and then life ended. So the way I see it, I want to be as unrealistically optimistic about how much life I squeeze and suck up. I don't believe that quality always should trump quantity. For me, I will always find a way to make my life positive, better, shiny and new each day. If I get a lemon, I'm gonna put some sugar on it.