There’s a little boy somewhere. Maybe he’s the new kid in school. Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he’s confused about himself and others. Maybe he likes weird clothes and music that his peers don’t "get." Maybe his voice could fill up the Grand Canyon, but his mouth can't articulate his thoughts.
He maybe overweight and unappreciated. He may be quiet and excited, a glowing light sitting Indian style, by himself, watching the others on the playground while he hums unknown melodies. He dreams, all day and all night. He prays for understanding and for the others to understand him.
Maybe he walks home watching cars pass and leaves wave at him, smiling because his thoughts tackle his fears with laughter. Maybe he dances in his room and talks to his stuffed animals as if they were an audience. They can’t clap though. He knows this. He understands this.
I do this because that little boy should hear those claps. I do this so that he smiles. I do this so that he knows it’s ok to think those thoughts, but learns to speak them aloud. I do this so he can grow to the understanding that it’s his world, not there’s. So that he knows those claps are coming. He just has to think loud enough so they can hear him.