Little Jumping Jack

I was walking down the sidewalk a few weeks ago when I noticed a young boy kneeled in the center of a trampoline. Usually, this would not draw my attention but, something about this young lad intrigued me on this lovely warm breezy day.

Nearby was a carriageway where you could hear the sounds of cars and lorries on their way towards their appointed destinations. The smell of faint exhaust from the nearby motor carriageway situated 100 meters away.

In an unused open soccer field nearby, scampered a happy dog that was professing joy at being let loose from his restraining leash. This temporary release permitting him to do the things dog loves best, running and sniffing the base of trees and letting all other doggies know that they are not the only unrestrained dogs hereabouts.

Along the path that I was strolling, there are numerous park-style benches placed at various intervals to allow for brief rests when the need arises, which in my case is a true blessing. It was then that I heard a chirping sound emanate from my pockets, so I decided to take a seat and see what trivial thing needed my immediate attention. Meanwhile, my eyes could not leave the image of the young lad kneeling on his trampoline still as a granite statue. As quickly as possible, I tended to the interruption and put my phone away.

During this time, I noticed that the youngster’s face was blank, no emotion, or smiling nothing. Somehow it seemed as if he was quietly listening to sounds that only he could hear.

The boy’s haircut reminded me of the style I had when I was about his age. Then it was known as a crew-cut or burr. On this sunny day, he wore an off shite t-shirt and what appeared to be underpants or swimshorts.

What made me curious about this boy was why it was that he was not jumping or bouncing on the tramp as I would think all children would be doing given the same situation.

The immediate thought that he might have injured himself and that he might require help had entered my mind but then left again when I saw him begin to turn his face upwards towards the sky.

No sound or uttered word came from him. We were both surrounded by the sounds of the day. Birds perched on various nearby rooftops, and in the trees behind me called to each other with intricate chirps and tweets. Occasionally, a patch of high weeds would rustle, pushed aside, making room for a hidden cat on his soon-to-be dinner trail. And yet from my lad came no reaction to the sounds.

Then I began to ask myself why I did notice any person or caretaker, maybe a babysitter, someone to look after the young lad sitting there alone, but none where to be seen. There was a door entrance to the young boy’s home and a large picture window directly in front of the erected trampoline. As I looked at the young lad, no one seemed to check to see about him.

I saw no threat to the boy, nor did I feel that he was in any danger. I would have acted without thought to be of assistance. I was wholly intrigued by this young boy. I wanted to see what he saw, to hear what he might be listening too.

I decided that it was time for me to move on. So I eased myself up and turned to continue my walk, taking one last glance at the object of my interest. I gave a small smile hoping that the lad had noticed me. And to my surprise, he had. The lad’s face showed no emotion. But with his eyes, he shared with me a small peek into his private world—a brief second of sweet serenity that defies all words.

I hardly remember my return home that day. I was so captivated by what I had experienced. I soon learned from the lad’s Mother that he was 8 years old and Autistic. Other children scorned him, and most adults ignored him. To many, she explained, he would be better off living in a particular home that specializes in dealing with such cases. We talked for quite some time, and I learned many new things. Now I have a new friend that invites me into his peacefully simple place. A place that knows no racism harbors no hate—a place where the color of your skin or the size of your body has no meaning.

I have now even learned to jump on a trampoline at my age.

There are many beautiful lessons to learn from a child’s eyes if we choose to look. I did.