A Voice of Autism

The hour was late, past both our bedtimes. I was weary. Crabby. Short tempered. Tired of waiting on doctors to get back to me. Tired of being in pain. Tired of the uncertainty of the future with a husband that has been without a job since May. Tired of trying to reach into my depths and find the strength to pretend to be strong for my child. My child that is full of his own ideas and opinions.

I feel his footsteps vibrate through me as he approaches my chair in the dark room. My first instinct is to snap.

You need to be in bed!

He leans close into my ear, touching my shoulder.

Are you okay, mom?

His question startles me. We argue and butt heads often. He issues terse apologies, but this?

His hand stays and he continues.

You just seem so tense and I worry about you. I want to make sure you are okay before I go to bed.

The tears come fast and hot. I blink them back and falter out

The pain, you know...it's just so much...oh honey...it takes over everything, and the waiting and not knowing...all the appointments...my back.

He starts to go back to his bedroom and I rise from my chair.

Wait, can I, may I...can I have a hug goodnight? Please?

I hold my boy tight to my, my head coming to his shoulder, where his once came to mine. He hugs me back and disappears to his room.

I go to my own bed and offer up my prayers, thankful for the gift I was just given.