Last Tuesday, after therapy, we went to Market Basket. We were in the produce department when all of a sudden I heard him yell, “monkey.”

It was clear. It was spontaneous.

“Monkey!”

I came around the corner, and he started saying it over and over. It sort of devolved into “muhn-ay, mu-ay,” but he was YELLING it and crying, then I was crying and we’re hugging and I’m sure everyone around us wondered why these two people were losing it in the produce section.

I didn’t even care.

This week ended with another word.

 

Tonight, John was getting ready to go downstairs to make dinner when suddenly he yelled “Nonnie!”

Nonnie is his special girl. In fact, one of the sentences he made me program into his AAC is, “Nonnie is the most beautiful girl.”

And once he said her name, he kept going.

“Nonnie. Nonnie. Nonnie.”

This time, the word didn’t disappear or devolve into sounds. He just kept saying her name over and over.

And we both cried, again.

Those were our two really big verbal wins this week. There have been little things slipping through, too—“right now,” “I don’t know,” “that’s right.”

I’m not writing down every single one as religiously as I did in the beginning. I’m starting to trust that they will keep coming.

Slowly. Sporadically. But they are coming

.John has had some very sad mornings lately. He desperately wants to speak. I don’t know where he keeps pulling his strength from, but somehow he does. He pulls up Constant Therapy and Tactus on his own and just bangs away at them.

Monday and Tuesday were really hard nights for me. And then, somehow, something lifted. I had my big cries. I woke up Wednesday and thought, “Ok, we’ve got this.” If he can do it, so can I.

Communication is still a work in progress. I’d say about 50% of the time I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me with the Aac or him writing some words. Another 20% we can figure out together by going back and forth. And maybe 30% of the time, we just can’t get there and eventually have to let it go.

But we are communicating.

We also downloaded a new AAC app called Spoken Tap. It uses AI built by a company that makes AI voices for customer support. Using predictive text and pictures, it helps him “find the word”, learning and personalizing as he uses it. It even lets him draw something when he can’t remember the word.

We also had two sessions this week with Nadine, his new speech therapist, and we both love her. She is direct, confident and completely engaged with John. She encourages him, pushes him, tells him when to stop and restart, and celebrates him. She has this wonderful fire and enthusiasm, and you can tell she genuinely loves what she does.

There were plenty of good things outside of therapy this week, too.

Friday morning, John went fishing with his brother Kevin.

By coincidence, Jackie and our grandniece Piper were at the pond, too. There is something incredibly sweet about the simplicity of sitting on the bank, catching a fish with your older brother, just like you did when you were kids.

Saturday we went into Boston for lunch at our friends Chris and Edwin’s condo, and afterward they surprised us by walking us over to see the elephant exhibit on Commonwealth Avenue.

And we made progress on some of the less-fun-but-important things, too: John was approved for MassHealth as his secondary insurance, and we’re about two-thirds of the way through the Social Security Disability application. That enormous administrative machine is officially moving.

This morning I went to a slab hand-building pottery class and made a bowl that says “Bee Happy.” I covered it in little flowers and carved daisies into it.

Later, I was sitting looking out the window and saw a hummingbird hovering around the last of the season’s bee balm.

And I think maybe that is the theme of this week.

Look for the small things, because sometimes the small things are actually the big things.

A hummingbird outside the window.

The word monkey in the produce section.

The word Nonnie shouted from upstairs.

Catching a fish with your brother.

Lunch with old friends.

A bowl that says Bee Happy.

A garden producing more tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, watermelon and squash than two people could possibly eat.

Recovery is slow. We know that.

But progress is happening.And life is still happening, too.

There are still fish to catch, friends to visit, vegetables to pick, hummingbirds to watch, pottery to make, dogs to love, and words waiting somewhere inside John’s brain to find their way back out.

This week, two of them did.

Monkey.

Nonnie.

And right now, those don’t feel like small things at all.