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As I read through The Chicken Soup For the Soul: Raising Kids on the Spectrum, memories come flooding back. I so identify with these other parents, siblings, and writers who are on the spectrum themselves. There is a certain commonality among those in the autism community.

A boy in one of the stories was obsessed by the color blue. Green was Will’s color for many years. Everything had to be green: his blankets, pajamas, plates, glasses, shirts. If he could have had green jeans, he would have been delighted. But a 6-foot kid in the 6th grade has to take what his mother can find. Land’s End jeans unhemmed, so I could sew just the tiniest of hems. 30 x 36 was a tall order. He still needed a belt to hold them up.

The first story by Leigh Merryday speaks of the “kind of death” that occurs as we face the diagnosis of autism. The grief. I felt that, too.

The boy who was misunderstood and underestimated now speaks at Asperger’s conferences. His mother says, “they should see him now.” When Will was diagnosed with autism, the words “mentally impaired” stung. But they should see him now.

I am reading through this book in part because I intend to write a review on Amazon when it is released on April 2, 2013. This is a way of supporting the wonderful writers who contributed to this book. Writing reviews of books on ASD will help the publishers and the writers.

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