Tag Archives: house

Artwork by Kiddo

Here is an original artwork by my nine-year-old son, Colin (with minimal photo editing). It made me think that sometimes the chaos wrought by autism can render beauty. I like the use of white space and the Jackson Pollock feel.

Untitled by Colin DiClemente.

But the sundry objects and paper cutouts scattered in his bedroom and on our dining room table might indicate his preferred medium will be collage.

Dining room scene.

Often, when Colin is doing his repetitive tasks, such as lining up blocks or wooden letters of the alphabet, I’ll ask him questions, like, “What job do you want to do when you grow up?” If you could only be one, would it be a police officer, a firefighter, a doctor, a teacher, an artist, or a cook? And I’ll name a whole bunch of other occupations. But nearly every time, Colin’s answer will either be Artist or Cook (he loves mixing the batter for pancakes and muffins).

I joke with my wife, Pam, that we should encourage him to pursue a career as an accountant because earning a living will be easier than working as an artist or chef. I also tell her we should let Colin pursue his artistic endeavors so that he can 1) Explore and develop his creative expression 2) Maybe sell a few paintings one day that will pay off the mortgage and perhaps fund some experimental or documentary film projects.

I also realize that the parents of an autistic child have to let go of any desire for a neat and orderly home. It’s just not possible, at least in my experience. Pam and I try to laugh about it and embrace the futility of those moments when Colin takes up too much real estate in our house with his strewn objects or refuses to pick up his mess.

Standard

Death of a Bonsai Plant

The little bonsai plant that I bought for my wife for Mother’s Day in 2021 has finally died. We took it with us when we moved from our apartment to our house late last year.

My bonsai tree. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

And sitting on the kitchen countertop, it bloomed a couple of flowers—which we considered a positive sign. But despite consistent watering and stints in the sun, the plant has turned dry and brown. And I know there’s nothing left to do but throw it in the trash.

Bonsai plant, summer 2023.

But one thought came to me while I studied its desiccated leaves and branches, which I’ll arrange into a little verse:

Just because
the bonsai plant died
doesn’t mean
it didn’t have
a good life.

Standard

Backyard Forest

Since the warm weather has come to upstate New York, I wanted to share a poem that seems fitting for a season of humid nights, swaying trees and buzzing insects.

Photo by Luke Palmer

Enchanted Forest

When I was a young boy,
I dreamed of a forest for a backyard.
I wanted to open the sliding glass door
on the bottom floor of our raised ranch home
and step outside, entering a tract of land
with acres and acres of evergreen and deciduous trees.
No neatly trimmed lawn, no tool shed,
no swimming pool or garden with basil and tomato plants.

I longed for a secret place I could run to and get lost in,
the green canopy shimmering above me
as my feet struck a rocky path
leading deep into the woods.
A place where I could be still and quiet
and make friends with forest companions.

I created this place in my mind so the cacophony
of screeching woodland birds and hissing insects
would muffle the sound of my parents
screaming on the other side of the drywall.
That’s what I wished for at night,
while closing my eyes and trying not to hear
the yelling coming from the next room.

And when I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d pull myself up,
part the navy blue, sailboat-adorned curtains
and look outside my bedroom window,
where, to my dismay, I would see nothing
but a plot of green grass in our backyard.

Photo by Lum3n.

Standard