elijah log burning fire 14 year-old highly functional autistic boy. his dad was tall with unusually large eyes. his mother had ravaged teeth. they spoke to me in front of their son about his condition and that somehow broke my heart. elijah had his dad's eye and stringbean height. he told me his skis had a mind of their own but when i put top holders on it was our first positive, safe connection. i told him i would take care of him, urging him to ride the chairlift. "you're my friend now," he said. i'll never forget how his dad ran up the hill to get our picture as we ascended the mountain. a first ride on a chairlift is monumental. i held his hands when it was necessary and let him go when i knew he could do it. he crumpled once only, his legs folding as if they were made out of cardboard. back down, his dad urged him to go again, but i could tell the experience drained him of all the courage he could muster. he was wrecked. i knew his dad wanted me to encourage him so i promised him a prize. he contemplated and behind his eyes the flicker was fanned but strained to blow out. finally he gave in. "the adults win," he said. so we rode the magic carpet back up to prepare for another trip. i asked him if he liked star wars because he was wearing a darth maul hat. i could see the name written on the back. "how did you know?" he was blown away. when we saw his dad again, he realized there was nothing left in him. "sorry," elijah said. my heart laid red and bloody in the snow. 130102 what's it to you? who go blather from