Pablo is about 10 years old, and until two years ago, he had never left home except for a few hours at a time. We kept him close to us. The thought that other people wouldn't understand his needs, that he would cry for us — it made us avoid any opportunity to let him go, no matter how small.
But we were wrong. We discovered that he could do without us, especially without me. My overprotectiveness had kept him from living a more normal life, from being around other children.
Then came a Fede e Luce camp, and he left for a whole week. Seeing him when he returned was a revelation. A few days away, and he was pronouncing syllables we had hoped to hear but never imagined would come so soon. His life changed. Our life changed. It has been one surprise after another, and I feel some regret for not waking up sooner from the sleep we were in. A mother cannot replace what a child learns from his peers. Among themselves, there is a constant exchange. After about two years, Pablo has grown so much — psychologically, emotionally — and that gives us such peace.
Now his friends are our friends too. When he comes home from an outing, he has so much to talk about. His walks stretch into days of conversation. He tells us everything in his own way, asks about everyone, and with an invisible telephone, he makes long calls to his closest friends, making plans for when they'll see each other again. His thoughts are filled with walks they've shared and walks still to come, with songs and laughter. Through him, we have found the joy of living again.
Rita Ozzimo, 1979