He’s Happy — and He Could Be Doing So Much More
A reflection from a HomeLife 21 parent
My son Zach is almost 27.
He’s nonverbal, gentle, and deeply observant. He loves the outdoors. Waterfalls, trees moving in the wind, long bike rides on the back of a tandem with my husband. We call him “Zen Zach,” because he can sit quietly and take in the world for a very long time.
He’s happy at home.
That’s important to say.
Living with Zach isn’t especially hard in the ways people often assume. He’s not aggressive. He’s very caring. If someone walks slowly, he slows down with them. If the dog stops, he stops too. When something is wrong, it’s usually medical, not behavioral. And when he needs comfort, what he needs most is presence.
What is hard is time.
Zach wants to be involved. He likes to help. He’s curious when I’m cooking. He enjoys pouring, stirring, being part of what’s happening. But doing those things slowly — the way he needs — takes an abundance of time we simply don’t always have.
At home, life moves fast. Meals need to be made. The home needs to be cleaned. Gardens need tending. Parents are aging. Jobs, caregiving, and responsibilities stack up. Even with all the love in the world, the day just fills itself to the brim.
So we end up doing many things for him instead of with him.
He’s happy. But he could be doing so much more.
I see it when we travel. On vacation, Zach tries new foods. He watches other people. He adapts. But at home… Well, he knows how things work here. He knows what to expect. And so he stays right where he is.
That’s not because he can’t grow.
It’s because this environment can’t give him the time and support he needs to do it.
I imagine him living in a place where dinner is shared. Not forced, just modeled. Where he sees other young men sit down, eat a meal, and maybe thinks, I can do that too. Where cooking isn’t rushed, and helping doesn’t need to be efficient to be worthwhile.
I imagine staff who have the time to notice what he enjoys and build from there. A place where he can be independent and cared for. Where his food isn’t locked away, where his space is his own, and where home actually feels like home—not a program, not a facility.
That’s what HomeLife 21 is trying to create.
Not because our children are unhappy.
But because they deserve lives that continue to open, not quietly narrow.
If the four of us on the Board can do this well, if our sons can live in a place they love and thrive there, then other families will see it. They’ll say, They did it. How did they do it? We want that too.
And once a real home like that exists, families don’t have to wait for crisis. They can choose it early. They can plan. They can build relationships and trust over time.
That’s what makes this different.
HomeLife 21 isn’t about rescue.
It’s about possibility. Created patiently, intentionally, and with care.
Zach is happy.
And I can see how much more life is waiting for him.
For families like ours, this model isn’t about simply doing more. It’s about building a system that finally allows our children’s lives to keep opening instead of quietly closing.
Babette Zschiegner
HomeLife 21 Founding Board Member and parent
