Kyle can simply be said to be a miracle baby. Born tiny at one pound, his twin would not pull through. Also born autistic, Kyle is a genius complete with a photographic memory. As he says, "I came into the world differently from you, and I will travel the world differently from you." His affable disposition attracts more and more people to him until a collection of hilarious adventures arises and Kyle, loved by the angels themselves, discovers not only his small contribution to the world of autism, but also, like a magnet, here comes the world.
To know me is to love me. To know me is to love me. Isn’t this what people say of themselves? I don’t know about these things very well because I have autism. Autism means that you can’t do things other people can. Some autistics could barely speak, having to communicate through the madness of obsession. I myself have a fascination with books, writing, cartoons, and I even met my favorite author once when my Dad took me to his book signing. When my Dad introduced me to DiTomasso, he explained to him that I have Asperger’s. This means that I’m not a regular autistic person. I am a little more advanced. Although I think it’s funny that people could use the word advanced in the same sentence as autism. I don’t know. I find people funny. I laugh inside myself all the time. My dad will notice my inward grin and look at me with disapproval. He wanted me so badly to be normal. Actually, I think he wants me to be perfect. I don’t understand this word. I understand millions and millions of words since I have a photographic memory, but this one, this word…what could possibly be perfect?
Well, if you are to love me, to know me, you should know how I came into the world. It was very cramped in my amniotic sac. I had a brother with me, my twin, and we tried to swim together in the salty water. But there was a problem. My Mom had things called polyps. They grew too large and my brother and I couldn’t grow properly. I got very worried because he looked smaller and weaker than me. I was always trying to untwist from my umbilical cord just to brush the palms of his hands. We touched frequently but only for short moments. Things kept getting worse and worse for us here in my Mom’s womb. It was like time had sped up, and the mounds of tissue kept filling and filling up our space. I saw with shock that my brother was starting to choke. I tried desperately to help him. But I couldn’t. Before I knew it, I was hanging from the hand of a doctor, upside down and I had no idea where my brother was. I looked down and saw a lot of blood.
Where was my brother? What was happening to my mother? The blood kept flowing, racing down the legs of my mother, spilling into bedpans and emesis basins. It seemed like the whole room was full of blood. I screamed.
Now I am in a kind of plastic space, and I can feel a breeze that I guessed was oxygen, rushing into my tiny mouth and nose. I was really tiny. You should know that, when I was born, I only weighed about one pound. This seems absurdly small, doesn’t it? I knew I would die. I could just feel an angel tugging at me, imploring me to return to heaven. But I didn’t wanna go. I felt strange here, yes, but I felt something awaited me. I don’t know why I felt so contrary: stay, go, stay, go, but going seemed all the more probable. I felt myself slipping away most of the time and I could hear the beeping of machines every time my heart stopped beating, which was often. I could make out all these white coats milling around and around, making me dizzy, but I couldn’t see very well. In fact, the doctors later told my mother that I wouldn’t be able to see, hear, or possibly even speak. If I lived, my life would be hopeless. But I didn’t care. Since I didn’t know where my brother was, I wanted to find him, to see him (if I could ever see) before the angels had their way.