Watch and Listen

Way back in the day, before Matt had speech, people would ask me, “How do you know what Matt wants?” It was a question of curiosity – one which was simple to answer, “I read his body language.” I’ve always been good at. It must be a difficult thing for most people to do, as even my husband, Tom, and my other kids, Christopher, Jacob and Sarah, have never mastered it the way I have. Tom usually comments with, “You’re so good at that,” whenever I notice something or provide something I know Matt needs. I guess it comes with experience and practice, but there must be more to it than that. I’m good at observation, and I’m getting better at deduction. I like watching.

I’m not a social butterfly – like Tom and the kids. Everyone in the family has a gift for being social – everyone that is, except Matt and me. They can start a conversation and keep it going forever. They each have a broad range of knowledge – know a little about almost everything. My knowledge base is more concentrated. I know a lot of information on several key topics, and everything else to me is trivia. I enjoy hearing trivia – but it doesn’t stick. Everyone in the family has a quick humor, which I love, and they all laugh so easily. The “laughing easily” part both Matt and I are pretty good at too. Conversation has always been almost a chore for me, unless of course it is on one of my areas of focus. I enjoy listening and will put in my two-cents here and there when the urge strikes me, but listening to an interaction is more fun. Maybe that’s why I can relate to Matt so well. I watch and listen. Matt watches and listens. We both learn quite a bit about another person without ever saying a word.

In watching Matt I have found he has certain movements that say volumes. A glance at me means he wants my attention. If his hat is on, he’s ready to go. If he walks to the kitchen and does not open the refrigerator door, then he’s lonely and wants to be invited to do what ever it is I’m doing. If he brings his CD to the jeep, then he wants to listen to his music and not mine. If he marks the days off on the calendar when I am near him, then he is counting down to a special event. If he makes it a show to make kool-aid, then he’s telling me he’s out of Mt. Dew. Hovering on the fringe means he’s listening and wants to join in, but needs an invitation. If he packs his art bag, then he wants to go somewhere. They all may seem fairly obvious, and to me they are, but Matt does all of these very subtly. You have to watch for them. Matt’s gestures speak volumes.

His facial expressions alert me to whether he understood or is confused by comments or actions. The other night I was hugging him good-night and said, “Matt, did you know you are the light of my life?” He looked at me as if I had just insulted him, “What!” I recognized that expression immediately. “Do you know what that expression means?” I said, leading him through the process of Q&A that I use so often to make him understand something. “Uh, no!” he replied expectantly. “’Light of my life’ means that you make me feel good. Each night when I get home you smile at me and your smile makes me feel on top of the world. Being my light is a really great thing. Can I call you ‘the light of my life’?” He understood that it was a compliment before I even finished my explanation. He smiled even bigger and gave me a bear-hug. “Yes.” He replied, granting me permission. Last night as I was headed for bed, I gave Matt a hug and said again, “Matt, you are the light of my life”. He smiled, and sweetly replied “Yes” followed by another bear-hug and another great smile. Sometimes I think Matt and I are more alike than anyone might think. We both need the hugs, the reassurance, and the routine exchanges at bedtime to complete our day. We both watch and listen and wait to be invited in. He watches me and reads me too. I know he is watching and I make sure that what I am doing – from movements to facial expressions – is as obvious as possible. I know when he is carrying around a question and most of these are answered before a word is spoken.

When Matt and I would go to the store while Tom was away on contract, Matt would always bring his CD. The first time he brought it he put it in the player as soon as I turned on the jeep. He studied the buttons for a bit then pressed the skip button until he had just the right track. He has his favorite songs and sees no point in listening to the songs in-between. As soon as his song began to play he looked at me. What was it? Was it his eyes? Maybe it was the angle of his head? Was it his body gesture? I really couldn’t say, but I knew he wanted me to listen. Matt knew a few of the words and would blurt them out – looking at me. I knew what he wanted – he wanted to know the lyrics. I began to reiterate the lines as I heard them. I didn’t know this particular song.

I had to listen – and I could feel Matt watching me listen. We replayed the song several times on that first trip to town. Within that time we had figured out several lines and he was singing them with each replay of the song.

Each time we went to the store, Matt brought along his CD. Each time I picked out certain lines and reiterated for him. Each time we returned home, Matt knew more of the song. Eventually Matt knew the entire song. To show how proud he was of his accomplishment, Matt grabbed his CD for our first trip to town upon Tom’s return. He skipped ahead until he found just the right track and then, with a big smile and a loud voice, he sang his heart out, singing each and every word. Tom smiled, listening to his son’s happy voice.

The song? Oh, it was, “I’m a Hard Working Man”, by Brooks and Dunne. It is dear to Matt because he knows how hard his daddy works for him to keep us going in such hard financial times. He picked it out because, well, because he was missing his daddy. He wanted to know the words because the title said it was about a “. . . Hard-working Man”. Matt needed my help to figure out the words so he could sing it for his daddy upon his return.

I got it almost immediately – did you?