You know how sometimes life just throws you a curveball? My friend Lily was expecting little Harry for ages, but the pregnancy was a nightmare and he arrived premature, tiny as a mouse, in an incubator. His organs were underdeveloped, he needed a ventilator, two surgeries, even a retinal detachment. We said our goodbyes twice, fearing the worst, but Harry pulled through.
Right after, it became clear he could barely see or hear. He eventually learned to sit up, grab a toy, and shuffle to a support, but his mind just wouldnt catch up. Lily and Harrys dad, Tom, clung to hope at first, fighting side by side. Then Tom drifted away, and Lily was left battling on her own.
When Harry was three and a half, they managed to get hearing implants, so the sounds finally reached him, but his development still stalled. They tried everything specialneeds therapists, speechlanguage pathologists, psychologists, you name it. Lily would bring Harry over to my place countless times. I kept suggesting new activities, different approaches, but nothing stuck. Most days Harry would sit quietly in his playpen, twirl a small object, tap it on the floor, bite his hand, or let out a singlenote wail, sometimes a modulated cry. Lily swore he recognised her voice, would chirp at her in his own way, and loved a gentle scratch on his back and legs.
Then an older psychiatrist finally said, What diagnosis are you looking for? Hes a walking vegetable. You need to decide what youll do with him keep caring for him or let him go. Theres no point hoping for a miracle. That was the only time anyone spoke straight with Lily. She placed Harry in a specialist nursery and went back to work.
A while later she bought a motorbike something shed always wanted. Shed ride out of town with a bunch of fellow bikers, the roar of the engine drowning out all the worries. Tom paid child support, and Lily splurged it on weekend carers. Harry wasnt a huge hassle once you got used to his quirks. One of the bikers, Sam, told Lily, Theres something tragicbeautiful about you.
Come on, Ill show you, Lily said. He smiled, thinking maybe she was flirting, but she led him to Harry. The boy was lively, a modulated wail escaping his lips, probably recognizing his mum or reacting to a stranger.
Oh my God, look at that! Sam gasped.
What did you expect? Lily shot back.
Soon they were not just riding together, they moved in together. Sam promised never to touch Harry (theyd agreed on that beforehand) and Lily was fine with it. Then Sam suggested they have a child. Lily snapped, What if we end up with another one like him? Sam fell silent for nearly a year, then finally said, Alright, lets try.
Ben was born, perfectly healthy. Sam, halfjoking, asked if they should put Harry into a care home now that they had a normal son. Lily snapped back, Id rather send you there. Sam retreated, muttering, I was just asking About nine months later, Ben discovered Harry crawling around. He was instantly fascinated. Sam got nervous, told Lily to keep Ben away from Harry, saying it could be dangerous. But Sam was always at work or on his bike, while Lily let the boys play together. When Ben crawled next to Harry, the little boy didnt wail he just seemed to listen, waiting. Ben would bring toys, demonstrate how to play, even grasp and stack Harrys tiny fingers.
One weekend Sam fell ill and stayed home. He saw Ben wobbling around the flat, mumbling something, with Harry glued to his side like a shadow. Sam blew up, demanding a fence around his son or constant supervision. Lily pointed silently to the door. He got scared, they patched things up, and Lily later visited me.
Hes a bit of a lumberjack, but I love him, she said. Its awful, isnt it?
Of course it is, I replied. Loving your child unconditionally is natural
I was actually talking about Sam, Lily clarified. Harry can be dangerous for Ben. What do you think?
I told her the data suggested Ben was the stabilising force, but theyd still need to watch Harry closely. They agreed.
By the time Ben was one and a half, hed taught Harry to stack blocks by size. Ben was already chatting in sentences, singing simple songs, and reciting rhymes like The crows cooking porridge. Lily asked me, Is he some kind of prodigy? Sam, proud, bragged, Hell be the talk of the town, kids his age never speak like that. I suggested, It could be Harrys influence. Not every toddler becomes a catalyst for someone elses growth.
Wow! Lily cheered. Ill tell this little logeye anything.
I thought about the whole circus a walking vegetable, a log with eyes, a motorbikeriding mum and a child prodigy. After Ben mastered the potty, it took him about six months to teach his brother. Lily set himself the task of getting Harry to eat, drink from a cup, dress and undress all on Bens own.
When Ben turned three and a half, he asked bluntly, Whats up with Harry?
Well, Lily began, first of all, he cant see much.
He does see, Ben countered. Just poorly. Depends on the light. The bathroom lamp over the mirror works best for him.
The ophthalmologist was stunned when Lily brought Harry in for an exam, using Ben to explain his condition, but he listened, ordered further tests, and prescribed complex glasses.
Ben never fit in at the special nursery. He should be in a mainstream school already, the teacher snapped. He knows more than the rest of us! I pushed back, insisting Ben stay in clubs and focus on Harrys development. Surprisingly, Sam agreed, telling Lily, Sit with them until school; why waste time in that silly nursery? And have you noticed hes stopped howling for almost a year?
Six months later Harry said, Mum, dad, Ben, give me water, meowmeow. Both boys started school together. Ben worried, How will I manage without him? and wondered if the special school would really understand them. In Year5, Ben still does some lessons with Harry before moving on to his own work.
Harry now strings together simple sentences, can read, uses a computer, loves cooking and tidying (Ben or Lily guide him), enjoys sitting on the garden bench watching, listening, sniffing the world. He knows every neighbour and always says hello. He loves molding plasticine, building and taking apart Lego.
But the thing he loves most is when the whole family rides motorbikes out on the country lanes Lily on hers, Ben with Sam, and Harry clinging on, all of them shouting into the wind. Its chaotic, its noisy, and its perfect.
