When I first met Timmy he was about 5 years old. He wore weighted boots, a full head helmet, and a waist belt that confined his hands. Timmy was violent; he hurt himself, and others around him. Timmy loved his older sister, my 12 year old granddaughter's best friend. I got to know the family, and to see Timmy's struggle to fit into a world that terrified and enraged him. I visited with his mother and grandmother, and grew to love Timmy and his sister. Everytime I saw him I would talk quietly to Timmy, asking him simple questions, telling him how happy I was to see him. He kept his head down, and never acknowledged my words, or presence. As time went by, the helmet and belt and boots disappeared, but Timmy still did not interact with me in any way. After more than two years had gone by I was a frequent visitor. One day I was chatting in the family room with his mother and grandmother when Timmy appeared, his head hanging as he looked at the floor, standing under the arched entry, one of the girls on each side of him.. I looked up, and said, "Timmy! I am so happy to see you!! How are you today??" He didn't lift his head, but he ran over and grabbed me in a giant hug. He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then backed up and just stood there. No one said a word. Tears were running down my cheeks, while, smiling, I whispered, "You seem very happy today. That makes me happy, too!" He peeked up at me, and then ran back to his sister and my granddaughter. He pulled on them, until they took him away, to his place of safety and solitude. I felt so blessed, so happy that Timmy knew. I loved him because he was Timmy. I was able to hear him speak to me, before I moved away. I've not seen Timmy now for more than 5 years, but I think of him with love, every day.

Kristin Cuzick
Shelton, WA