Autism | Calderism

To most people, Niagara Falls is the kind of place you dream about visiting — roaring waterfalls wrapped in mist, shimmering rainbows in the sunlight, and a sense of wonder that hums in the air. Families pose for pictures with wide smiles, tourists crowd the walkways, and cameras click nonstop. It’s the definition of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

To Cald, however, it was the definition of “too much.”

The trouble started with the elevators. Most visitors see them as a quick ride to the next adventure. Cald saw them as small, cramped metal boxes where strangers stood too close and the air felt heavy and hot. Each trip up or to down from the 32nd floor was met with lots of squirming and flopping. And tears.

Restaurants were no better. Where others heard lively chatter and clinking silverware, Cald heard a wall of noise crashing into him from every direction. Conversation became nearly impossible, and by the time menus arrived,his notoriously famous appetite was gone.

And the great outdoors — the heart of the whole Niagara Falls experience — didn’t win him over either. The sun blazed overhead, the pavement radiated heat, and the crowds pressed in from all sides. Most people seemed energized by the view of the cascading water, but Cald’s energy drained with every step. By the time we made it to the falls, he was more focused on how tired he felt than on the curtain of water thundering in front of him.

When asked if he wanted to go back, it was an immediate yes. Even when my dad tried to bribe him with Hard Rock Cafe lemonade, Cald didn’t budge. “No,” he said, without hesitation. No malice, no drama — just the kind of straightforward truth that makes his perspective so unmistakably him.

So at this point, you’re likely thinking that Cald hated Niagara falls, our family had a miserable time, and my mom was upset at the waste of money. Here’s where you’d be wrong. Once we put ourselves into Cald’s perspective and asked him what he wanted, he was just as clear. He loves waterfalls. He’d spent all week putting up with our dad’s terrible driving to explore them, from Florida all the way to Canada. But for Niagara, Cald wanted to be inside, in our hotel room specifically, watching the falls from the 32nd floor. That kid does love a window.

Back to the hotel room we went. Calder got into his pjs. My mom loaded up on snacks including some weird all natural organic Canadian gummy bears. My dad and I eventually did a behind the waterfall tour. And Calder got to perch by the window, taking in both the American and Canadian side, eating fries, sipping juice, and relaxing in a quiet, safe place.

Niagara was hectic, overheated, and loud — proof that even the world’s wonders can feel overwhelming when you’re seeing them through his eyes. But once Calder found a perch where he was comfortable, and that was magical.