Considering how deeply I rely on metaphors to help me process my life, it’s an understatement to say it’s been a challenge raising a black-and-white, literal thinker. I believe my oldest would process information this way whether he was on the autism spectrum or not, it’s just so inherently part of who he is. This creates lots of occasions when we talk past each other, forcing us to back up and try again. Me: coming up with more and more metaphors he can’t relate to. Him: repeating the same facts over and over.

Both of my boys were born on Thursdays and often make me think of the nursery rhyme Monday’s Child, described on Wikipedia as a “fortune-telling song” predicting a child’s future based on the day of their birth. My oldest could read before he could talk, was always in a math class two years ahead of his peers, and has a photographic memory that lets him give turn-by-turn directions for any place he’s ever visited or any map he’s ever read. When he was little, it was easy to envision him “going far.”

Then he graduated high school and began college in 2020 – at the height of the pandemic. His spot on the spectrum makes him deeply reliant on routines and the ability to know what’s coming next, neither of which was possible in a world that had to adapt and change on a daily basis. So, his first year of college went terribly and he ended up taking a gap year, which turned into two years, while he worked and waited for the world to find its footing.

This fall he’s giving college another try – coincidentally at the same time and at the same institution where his brother will start his freshman year of college, Bellarmine University. My younger Thursday’s child received a full scholarship, books and tuition, in other words affirmation that the university believes he will go far. Meanwhile, my older Thursday’s child is learning how little fanfare and financial aid carrots there are for returning students with a less than spectacular first attempt at college.

We rolled up our sleeves and applied for every scholarship and grant available to him (my experience: I’d say 90% of what’s out there is only open to graduating seniors), but while I was prepared to face the rejection letters, I didn’t factor in the toll it would take on him. With each denial he heard the universe telling him “you’re not college material,” “you’re not worth the investment,” “you won’t go very far.” So, despite his resistance to metaphors, we’re spending the summer talking about what it means to be a Thursday’s child – the both/and of that prediction, the going far in life and it probably taking him longer than some to get there.

Meanwhile, I’ve taken on a couple of side jobs – working at a farmer’s market on Saturday mornings and designing/formatting materials for World Day of Prayer – hoping I can set aside a little money to create a Thursday’s Child scholarship to give him in August, just before his first tuition payment is due. He’s worked hard and saved up a good chunk of what’s needed to cover his first year, but I want something symbolic to affirm his return to school – a way of saying I believe in him and can see him going farther than he can see for himself right now.

I will milk this Thursday’s child metaphor for all that it’s worth, because even if he has farther to go, at least he’s going, right? That’s all I’ve ever tried to model for my boys – put one foot in front of the other, day after day, year after year, and keep moving forward.