Why cant life be easier?

Do you like trains? I do. There is nothing more calming than watching several trains go on a meticulous route that you have built from scratch. I didn’t build the trains or the track for that matter but I did lay the track and program the trains. My collection has grown over the years. I remember when I got my first train; it was Christmas day 1996, my first Hornby locomotive. When my obsession became bigger than my bedroom, my dad built a separate annex to the house just for my trains.

I don’t think like ‘normal’ people as I have autism. I use noise cancelling headphones whenever I’m not in bed. I happened to have gotten a new house and some new foliage to go with that house for one of the free spaces I had on my display that day. I was painting them as my trains whizzed around the humongous table my father made me especially for my trains when the annex was built. Every week I get a new building to place onto it provided I got twenty-one gold stickers and not more than seven black ones.

I went into the main house as it was nine o’clock and my dad said that I couldn’t play with my trains past nine o’clock. I walked through the back door making sure I wiped each foot five times on the mat so as not to bring dirt into the house. At nine o’clock my dad watches the news. I went to tell him I was finished for the night when I saw him tied up in the living room and a man with a knife making him cry.

The man’s knife mustn’t have been sharp enough to cut through the ropes because he was just standing there. I wasn’t allowed touch the knives but I think my dad wanted one now to help cut the ropes off of him. I find it hard to read facial expressions but he didn’t look like he usually did when he saw me come in from playing with my trains. He was moving, trying to set himself free and the man mustn’t have been able to hear him.

I walked into the room with the knife from the kitchen and tried to give it to my dad. The man pointed his knife at me. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to swap but because I wasn’t allowed touch the knives, I thought it best to cut the ropes off my dad first before I went and touched yet another knife. I knew I was in trouble by touching one and I wanted a new building next week so I had to build up the gold sticker I got over the week. If I got twenty-one my dad bought me a new building. If I got seven black stickers, I didn’t get one.

I cut my dad free first and then the man grabbed me and put his knife to my throat. I’m not very good at sharing and I wasn’t going to share my knife with him because he looked too angry to have one in the first place.

‘Knives are for cutting up meat,’ dad always told me.

Dad was still wriggling around on the chair he was tied to but he was getting free because of the bit I cut. When he was loose, he held out his hand and I knew I was probably going to get a black star for touching the knife in the first place so I handed it to him.

‘Knives are for cutting up meat,’ he had always said but he used it to cut the man. I was so confused as to what to do so I went into the naughty corner because I thought that was where my dad was going to put me for ten minutes because I had touched the knife. I didn’t understand why trains can run on a timetable and so can my chores and meal times but my father broke his own rule and was trying to cut the man who was trying to untangle him from the rope.

As the blood began to seep through the man’s clothing, I closed my eyes and began to rock. I rocked forwards and backwards for what seemed like ages before I felt my fathers had tap my arm three times. That was how he communicated to me that he wanted my attention, he tapped on my arm three times.

I opened my eyes and saw red blood all over my father. He asked me to take off my noise cancelling headphones, through imitation. I did what he asked and he asked for me to look into his eyes. That is something that I find hard to do. Your eyes are the windows to your soul and I find it hard to look into his eyes. When I did, he told me that I was going to be ok and he was going to be ok but he needed me to put back on my headphones and close my eyes as he guided me out of the room and that he would give me an extra gold sticker to play with my trains until midnight.

I was confused but was desperate for the sticker so I nodded my head and closed my eyes tightly. He replaced my headphones over my ears and guided me into the kitchen where he tapped my arm three times again. I went out to the annex and played trains. I noticed a flashing blue light come from the side of the house but I was to stay in the annex until midnight for my sticker so I paid no attention to it.

At midnight my father met me in the kitchen. I brushed my feet on the mat five times for each foot so as not to bring in any dirt. He smiled at me, a smile which I mirrored as he put a gold sticker on my chart. Smiling isn’t something I usually did but my father told me that sometimes you have to mirror peoples facial expressions. I was one step closer to a new house for my trains next week. My father brought me upstairs and tucked me into bed. He explained that everything was going to be ok but that I needed to trust him. Trust, another thing that doesn’t come easily, but I did trust my dad. He bought me buildings for my trains if I got twenty-one gold stickers over the week and didn’t get more than seven black ones.

I love trains. Why can’t life be easier? Why can’t life run as smoothly as trains do?