Jaime feels into the rhythm of the song that makes him want to dance, and gets lost in instruments that are new.
He demands that everybody be together, knowing that what matters is that you have each other.
He walks and observes what is around him, and asks questions even if the answers seem obvious.
He makes conversation with strangers to tell them that he cares about them and their dogs and their birthdays, and letting them know how he relates.
Beyond this, he is the best friend that he could be.
He cries when he sees pain in your eyes, and giggles uncontrollably when those around him share good vibrations.
He asks to know what new might happen today, and best of all, even tells you that you look beautiful when you slump down the stairs early in the morning.
My brother is residing at Camphill, a special school in Glenmore, about an hour away from where our family lives. There he is surrounded by a one-of-a-kind family that nurtures, challenges, and protects him in a beautiful blend of forest and farm—tucked away where the frenzy of our realities cannot reach him. He takes care of animals, makes useful things out of wood, and goes on long nature walks every day—learning about the world, from the world herself.
Written for 8th grade student Jaime by his sister Angela