Ian’s Walk: A Story about Autism

It’s the perfect day to go to the park and feed the ducks with my big sister, Tara. Except my brother wants to come along, too.
“Aw, Ian, why don’t you stay here?” I say. Ian doesn’t answer me, though, because he has autism. But he raps his fingers hard against the screen and begins to whine.
“Oh, all right, Ian,” I say. “Can he come?” I ask Mom.
“Hmmm…,” says Mom. “You’ll need to watch him closely the whole time. Are you sure you want to do that?”
“It’s okay with me,” I answer.
And Tara nods. “You hold his hand, though, Julie,” she tells me.
Ian’s brain doesn’t work like other people’s. Ian sees things differently…
When we pass Nan’s Diner, Ian steps inside to watch the ceiling fan move in slow circles. He doesn’t look at the waitresses hurrying by with all kinds of sandwiches and ice cream. “Let’s get a soda!” I say. But Ian keeps his eyes on the fan until I pull him out the door.

Ian hears things differently…
When a fire truck rushes by with its siren wailing and horn blaring, Ian hardly seems to notice.
But he tilts his head sideways and seems to be listening to something I cannot hear. “Hurry up!” I say, tugging his arm.