Tonight I cried while he danced. He looked like poetry in motion as music became movement. As fast as the bass that was pulsating through the speakers, his feet became a blur as they almost flew across the floor and through the air.

I watched and I knew in my heart this right here right now, was what he was born to do. It wasn’t just the ease with which he watched another contender and added their moves to his own freestyle piece. It was so much more than that. It was the way his eyes glowed with certainty, for he KNEW what to do. He “gets” how to translate music into movement. For all the confusion he still has in various social settings, put him on a stage or dance floor and crank up the tunes and watch the joy and sense of rightness that glows from within him.

Sweat soaked and muscles burning from exertion and still his smile illuminates his own starburst eyes that are so much like my own. It’s almost like the combination of music and movement unlocks some secret special place within him, and you can almost physically see everything “clicking” inside his mind for him. Like the movement pushes the confusion and anxiety that often plague him completely out of his mind. While the music pulsing causes synapses after synapses to occur in places that didn’t communicate properly with each other prior to that moment. For those few minutes on stage you can see how centered within himself, and whole he truly is, and it’s more beautiful than words can describe.

It’s his version of “therapy” for in those moments on stage he feels joy and acceptance in who he is. There, right there, my boy who has been judged for not being able to stay still, for randomly twirling or flapping his hands when he’s having a sensory overload is judged on how well he can move,