It’s easy for someone to understand the drawbacks of non-verbal autism. It seems obvious to most and anything with the word “non” in it appears to imply that there’s a missing element.

So, we walk around all arrogant with our dictionaries and multiple languages, thinking that we have the world in our vocal cords. People like my son, who not only lack spoken language but also have a limited understanding of receptive language, must face numerous challenges in life.

Don’t take this blog the wrong way (an irony that I will address in a moment). I’m not here to say that Lucas will have an easier life because he doesn’t have words. He won’t. His life would be considerably easier with more traditional communication methods and that’s why we work each day to teach him. That’s not the point.

The point is that not all of the results from being without verbal communication are negative. I know this because I often have too much verbal communication and, well, it can make life a little difficult at times.

Since I was a kid, people have remarked about how I speak and how I write. Compliments from strangers far exceed my belief in any abilities I might have. I just like expressing myself and explaining my position. I sit and I write words until I’m content with the picture I’ve painted.

If you want to get all Freudian on me, it might be my desire to be understood. That desire comes because, well, people don’t always understand me. I’ve had discussions last for hours, only to be left stunned by the message someone received from it. I’m not alone in this experience. At one time or another, we all have.

People have found deeper meaning in blog posts that they have taken the wrong way (told you). Imagine spending time crafting, writing, editing, and posting something you think is crystal clear. Yet someone took a completely different message from it. That’s happened on more than one occasion.

Lucas doesn’t have that. My boy, just short of 13, knows how to tell you what he wants. Without words, he’s learned through the years to either press a button on his device, lead you by the hand, or gesture toward whatever he needs. For my little fella, it’s direct. It’s there. Go get it.

Lucas asks for what he wants and never makes it into a mind game. Pirate Booty is Pirate Booty. Give him Pirate Booty. No one has ever brought him a snack and then argued with him over what snack he really wanted. No. He tells you.

That’s pretty fantastic, right? Of course, it’s on a more surface level than deeper conversations about love, life, and the day after tomorrow, but that stuff’s not important to him. I know my son and I know what makes him happy. He views the world through a lens that many of us don’t. While most see it as something that deprives him of living the way we all seem to, I see it as a kid simply living the life that he loves.

If he pined for something deeper and couldn’t articulate it, there would be some sadness in that. However, from all I know of Lucas, he’s so happy with the life he has. He’s not a romantic or a dreamer. He lives in the moment. Most days, I envy that. He knows how to get what he needs and uses the communication skills he has to get the job done better than most of us do.

It’s that lack of spoken word that also allows my son to be blunt in what he wants. While many of us will force ourselves to stay awake to appease a party guest or stop eating because we want someone else to save leftovers, Lucas follows a different path. If he’s eating and he likes that pizza, he has it until he’s done. If you’re sitting in our den and overstaying your welcome, he’ll go up to bed and tuck himself in. I’ve seen it. It’s both adorable and incredible.

Again, we can lament over his lack of social graces as if it’s some big Greek tragedy, but Lucas doesn’t care. If I sat him down and said, “Hey, buddy. Don’t you wish you could fake it with people a little more for the sake of sociability?” He’d reply by leading me to the Chips Ahoy in the pantry.

He doesn’t care about sociability. That’s the closest thing to a superpower that you can get.

Every day, I look at ways Lucas can be more like me. Some days, though, I look at how I could be more like him. I want to be. I want to be understood while unmistakably presenting my needs. I want to ask for what I want when I want it. If someone stays too long, I want to be strong enough to go up to bed.

For my son, non-verbal isn’t simply a lack of language. It’s a whole different view of the world around him. We could all stand to adopt some of that into our own lives. Maybe we’d understand each other better.