The Drama of AF
There are two special needs children in the family: me and my sister. AF is a very intense and demanding sister, yet she is dear to me. She has unusually high acuity and loves to learn. When she was my age, she had the same cheeky smile and mischievous grin. AF is one of my most empathic companions, and can assimilate my emotions as I do hers. We get along splendidly, with her depending on me as much as I depend on her. She reads to me all kinds of books – from picture books to Dickens’ books. She even reads to me her Chemistry books once in a while.
Always overly dramatic and gregarious is my sister. “You are my true and honorable brother; As dear to me as the ruddy drops. That visit my sad heart,” is one of Shakespeare’s lines she takes great delight in reciting to me. I play along and clap at her performance.
When she is minding me, she sometimes bursts into tears at the sight of me. I sigh. She thinks I am the most beautiful creature on Earth. This outburst doesn’t last very long, for pretty soon she is racing to the kitchen to get me my milk and singing ‘Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush’ on repeat. AF turns Chopin’s ‘Nocturnes’ on and I slowly drift into sleep whilst tugging at my sister’s hair.
Occasionally she goes to school with me and observes quietly, sitting at the back. Even whilst I am crying at having to stand, I am still vaguely aware of my sister’s presence somewhere in the background, smiling and feeling terrible for me.
All in all, she is a bundle of energy, most of which is directed at occupying my mind. She is lebay, as Indonesians would say, because she loves me to excess. But I love her for that. Don’t you?