Page 134 of Rather: The Therapist

Priest lowered him onto the floor and patted him on his head.

“I guess we’re having grilled chicken, corn, and jello.”

Shrugging, I joined forces with the decision-making five-year-old who was off to find Woody.

“That sounds delicious.”

Priest and I both failed to conceal our laughter. Nevertheless, he began preparing for our hearty meal. I wasted little time stepping into the kitchen and running my soapy hands underneath warm water.

“I’ll open the cans of corn and get them started.”

“I’ll get started on the chicken.”

We worked our way around the kitchen, ultimately deciding that a salad was suitable for the questionable meal we were having. Within an hour, everything was plated and in front of us on the table.

“Dear God, thank you for the meal we’re preparing to receive. Thank you for life. Thank you for health. Thank you for the breath in our lungs and the beat of our heart. May the food we’re waiting to receive is nourishing to our minds, bodies, and souls. In your darling son Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” Priest added.

“Princeton?” I called out, “Amen. Right?”

He tilted his chin upward, bringing smiles to our faces.

“Good enough,” I concluded.

Laughter and light quickly spread around the table as we stuffed our faces. Though it was rather quiet, no words were needed. Everything Priest was feeling rested in his eyes, posture, and every movement he made. I only hoped the feeling was visible in mine.

Princeton piled corn on his spoon a final time. He’d eaten it all and only a few bites of chicken. But, when the metal hit his plate, he made it clear he was finished.

“All done?” I asked in two different languages.

“Umm hmm.” Clearly, Princeton responded.

Priest’s eyes cut in his direction. I shook my head, daring him to make a fuss about it. Normalizing Princeton’s newfound ability was the quickest way to bring him comfort and encourage him to continue. Princeton didn’t need a pat on the back for speaking. He needed reassurance so the words would keep flowing.

It wasn’t his fault they were lodged in his throat when he tried getting them out. But, he was fully responsible for breaking down those barriers his little brain and body had agreed upon. If Priest began rewarding him for every new word he spoke, it would be never ending.

“What is it that you’d like to do next?”

I was aware of Princeton’s routines and so was he. His body set internal alarms to let him know when the next task was required. Because he had the ability to determine what was next without being told, I knew he had the strength to tell me exactly where we were in his daily routine.

He pointed down the hallway. I wasn’t sure what was down there, but according to the time it must’ve been his bedroom.

“What’s down there?”

He pointed again.

“A pool?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“A gym?”

He shook his head.

“A lake?”

He shook his head again.

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