My sister has autism. She’s 30 this year, and she’s had it for as long as I can remember.

She’s probably the most joyful person I know. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have to deal with, y’know, jobs or bills or angry clients. She sings to herself. She eats with gusto. When we scold her for misbehaving, she gets quiet for a while, and then she goes back to daydreaming as usual.

Most of the time, she’s pretty quiet. But sometimes, she gets into these hyperactive moods. She runs around with lots of energy and laughs and hyperventilates. She makes an awful lot of noise. She slaps her hands against mirrors and windows. She runs up to boys and puts her face really close to theirs.

When a 5-year old does it, it’s cute. When a 30-year old does it, it scares people off.

My sister doesn’t care what they …