A singular new word Wil calmly adds to his vocabulary, in a such a way that only I — or his closest educators — would hear stands out like a stacatto flashing me back in time to a movie reel loop when he was 5 or 7 or 10, working a skill on a repeat loop that at the time I couldn’t see beyond.

But here I stand, still marveling at one added word, one added achievement, one added milestone, taking me back and pushing us forward seemingly in flow but full of staccato moments.

I’m not who I used to be raising Wil, yet I’m closer to who I am at my core.

I must pave ways for Wil and yet must leave space for him to create his own. He has a high level of vulnerability and yet has an inner strength many desire.

Wil has grown in me a patience I never knew I had, and yet also has grown an immense impatience to grow more; to learn more; to expand borders.

I have learned many stereotypes are hysterically true; and many are heretically innaccurate. Wil’s sisters called him, “Wil ‘the snail’ Taylor” every time they followed him as he two-stepped up and down the stairs. I’ve shared many laughs with fellow Ds mommas over stereotypes and shared many tears with these same mothers over stereotypes. Stereotypes can bind or separate. You need to walk the walk to know which is what.

And friendships. He has some deep ones. He also has many cheerleaders we’ll never see again once he leaves this school. But the impact his presence has made, and theirs on him, is undeniable.

Raising Wil is a paradox; surface friendships that leave a lasting impact, single breakthrough words that flash back to a former time loop on repeat, patience that creates a relentless drive, stereotypes that create binding laughs in their known truths, and stereotypes that create pain in their ignorance of the truth.

I now stand beside Wil with great hope of what’s ahead, pure enjoyment of where we stand right now, bouyed by the memories that brought us here, and on occasion flash me back.