Echo Nova

Find me during the day, navigating both my autism and the crowded halls of a charter school, making it just a minute longer to reach my classroom---my safe haven. Here it is just me and my kids, the ones who also have autism or some other form of neuro-divergency. That is where I do my work.

When I arrive home, my brain takes a hold of me, bursting at the seams to be set free from its societal and social bonds. As soon as the threshold I cross, my mind explodes into a cosmic desire for expression. I walk around my apartment almost in wonder as I pass the oil paints strewn on the coffee table. I run a finger down the backside of my 88-key GHA Keyboard as I stare at the bookcase full of books I've read through and through again. I finally come to a seat in my grandmother's wooden sewing chair that's sporting a secret compartment and wrapped in the most beautiful floral fabric. I always run a finger across the fabric and think of where my creative mind comes from. Lifting the lid to the compartment, I retrieve my notebooks, full of lyrics, poems, spoken word---scribbled expressions, and sift through them to figure out what road of expressive art I'm going to take that day.

I don't have a load of self-confidence, and so my work remains where it is happy, in the confines of my grandmother's chair. I recent light though, I've been compelled to share some of my work. A friend pointed out that it has a possibility of helping some one, or giving someone the thing they needed to relate to---to know they aren't alone. I spent most of my early life as a foster child feeling alone. I try, when I can muster it, to help other people not feel so alone. I think it's why I have autism and teach autistic children---Just to. Let them know they aren't alone.

If you're still reading somehow, I hope you'll find a piece that will fit for you. Thanks for giving it a read at the very least. Cheers.