When the mist breaks, when the canopy opens to the stars, when the smoke is blown away by a cool breeze, that’s when life begins. Those are the fleeting minutes that I hope to find. Those are the times that I fight for with my boy.
It’s the connection that keeps me awake when he’s in a talkative mood in the darkest hours of the night. It’s that clarity that I, and every autism parent I know, fights for every minute of every day and night. That’s what I constantly watch for so I don’t miss them because I know that they don’t happen nearly often enough. They don’t last nearly long enough.
And so I watch, staring into the dark, straining my eyes, wishing my hearing were better, praying for connection, fighting against the fog.
You see more than I . . .
