My Autistic Friend

I've seen them before
in the street, at the park
but I've never gone further
than a sort of vague sympathy
as I looked the other way
pretended not to see
when they drooled or rolled their eyes.
They were different
but then one day
a phone call came
asking if i would please
help with a camp for special children.
I thought about it
decided to try
regretted it
looked forward to it
went on the first day with mounting dread.
And then I saw him
the boy I'd get to know.
He is six years old.
I'd thought he was four.
He is deaf
he is autistic
he is beautiful.
He is so stubborn
so strong
he can barely talk...
I watch him on the bus
looking out the window
his blond hair ruffling in the breeze
his eyes filed with...
Sadness?
Longing?
A strange kind of joy?
I can't tell.
The children who used to scare me
now tug at my heart
make me smile
make me cry.
They don't judge me
as I once judged them
they just look at me
with smiles in their eyes
joy on their faces
and accept me.