Sarie Wisdom

Okay, so, a while back, I wrote this story. And, although it does give my identity away quite a bit, I thought it was worth it, because it is such an awesome story! Okay, I'm sorry. I'm not really being modest here. But, I wrote it with a, like, five page restraint, so it's not the absolute best. But, I really don't think it's horrible either. Here you go:

Sarie Wisdom

         Mother always told me to speak my mind. I never really got how my mind was something you could speak, like a language, but she said this meant always saying what I was thinking. She said when everyone could hear what I thought, they wouldn’t judge me so harshly. I didn’t know what that meant, but Mother said it meant a good thing. But I never did like to talk in front of people. So Mother let me write my thoughts down, instead. And on special occasions, if I were okay with it, she would sometimes read them out loud to people. She called the thoughts Sarie Wisdom, thoughts from Sarie.

Sarie Wisdom on Names:

         I never understood those names. Mother’s real name is Sierra, but I don’t call her that because I tell her she’s a mother, not a sierra. She just looked at me in the eyes, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to look at God. My father, I don’t call him Father, because he’s not one. In the big book of words, it says Father is a man who has a child. But Mother says a Father is really someone who is there for me. My father hasn’t been here for ten years now. And the big book of words says that somebody who isn’t here is Nobody. So I call my father Nobody.

         But sometimes names aren’t just for people. Sometimes people name how people act. Mother says I act with Asperger’s Syndrome. I don’t know how AS can tell a person how I act, though, because behavior is made up of actions, not names, at least, that’s what Mr. Counselor tells me.

Sarie Wisdom on Mr. Counselor:

         Mother says Mr. Counselor is supposed to help me talk about my feelings. Really, though, I don’t care much about feelings. According to what I read from my mother’s old psychological textbook, feelings aren’t real. And if something isn’t even real, I don’t see any reason to deal with them, much less talk about them. But Mr. Counselor seems to think otherwise, because our first meeting went a lot like this:

         He tells me that his name is Mr. Garder, and that he will be here with me this year to talk to me about my Friends and Family.

         I tell him I will call him Mr. Counselor because that’s what he is. A Mister and a Counselor.

         He stretches his lips up at both ends real wide, which Mother says is what someone does when they are Happy, and Happy is a good  Emotion. But, his mouth is stretched so wide, I don’t see how you could ever Emotion Happy that way.

         “Why don’t we talk about your family? Who’s your dad?”

         “Nobody.”

         His lips pull even tighter.

         “So your dad. He’s… nobody?”

         I shake my head up and down so he knows I mean it.

         “Okay. What about your mom? She’s not nobody, right?”

         “No, she’s not Nobody, but she’s not a sierra, either.”

         By now I’m wondering how come his mouth hasn’t fallen off by now.

         “Okay, well… How about you go back to class? Next time, we’ll start talking about feelings.”

Sarie Wisdom on Mr. Counselor’s My Emotions Chart:

         Mr. Counselor has a My Emotions Chart in his office. He says that if I learned how to make the faces, I would make more Friends. I guess I should believe him, but it doesn’t make sense. I don’t get how Faces could make me Friends. Besides, Mr. Counselor’s chart has these yellow little circles that have eyes and mouths on them. He calls them smiley faces. But I tell them that he has to be wrong, because a lot of them don’t even smile. And since Mother once told me that humans hate erring, which is a big, fancy word for being wrong, so I told him that if he wanted to be right, he’d just have to call them Emotion Faces. He just breathed out really hard, and it sounded like my Friends when they look at God.

Sarie Wisdom on Friends:

         All the people that go to my school, or all the people that are in my class, Mother calls my Friends. But, I wouldn’t know why she calls them Friends, though, because I looked up Friends in the big book of words, and I found that Friends means someone you are close to. So, Mother has got to be wrong about Friends because I never like standing close to people. People get icky up close.

         But, with my Friends, whenever I tell Mrs. Teacher about why I don’t want to sit next to a Friend, or why I won’t call her Mrs. Sarah, they breathe even louder than Mr. Counselor and look all the way up to God. When I tell Mother about this, she said that someday their eyes were just going to fall right out of their face. I looked at her real hard, and I told her I would be waiting for that day.

Sarie Wisdom on Nobody:

         Nobody was never there for me as long as I can remember. Mother said he left when I was real little. When I asked why he went away, Mother’s eyes started dripping with water. She put one hand both of my shoulders and told me real hard that it wasn’t my fault he left. I never got why she said that, though. I never asked her if it was my fault.

At this Mother stops. People have come over to our house to eat dinner, and Mother is reading them some Sarie Wisdom. On the Nobody section, Mother stops and looks at me. Her eyes are wet, and her mouth is turned in a slight arc. She holds out her arms, which means she wants me to Hug her. I don’t know why, but she likes to Hug me whenever her eyes are wet. I can’t stand Hugs, but I’ll let Mother Hug me occasionally.

She runs her fingers through my hair and tells me that Nobody left because he was Selfish. He didn’t care about me, but it wasn’t my fault. I tell her that it is okay, because somehow, I know it will be okay. Nobody was never there for me. Mother has always been there. And I know, she will never leave.

So, what so you think? I am fascinated with Asperger's Syndrome, and would like to do extensive research on it. So, you might hear me talk on about that some. Just bear with me, please.