Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

I lay my head, and let the sound of nothing flow into my ear. But the sound of children crying, my head now exploding, as nothing describes, how these soft foundations, these complexities of sound, these words flowing from my head, in a way, order, clear, the chaos, the cavity, clouding my chambers.

Some days would be cloudy. Today was one of them. To mother a child on the spectrum, is to constantly seek, moments of ease, or anything that quiets the brains with ease. Still, we keep these memories, knowing that tomorrow, just may be the day, we blossom, like flowers.