The Eyes of Texas Are Always Upon Us

Today was one of those mornings at our house.

I could see that Mark, who has been relaxed and happy of late, was not those things today.

I could see it in the way he hung up towels, the way he dumped the water from his cup into the sink, the way he walked toward my car.

And then the way he walked away from my car.

And then the way he started running away from our house. Yes, running. Running with his backpack in hand. Across the street and then down a sidewalk.

At first I screamed, “He’s loose!” My daughter came out to see what was up.

Next I had a decision to make: do I chase him on foot or follow him in my car?

Guessing that he would be looking to fix pillows on chairs outside houses, I chose the car. I also saw that he was heading the direction we needed to go to get to his therapy and that we were already late.

Once he got to the second or third house on that street whose pillow-arranging he dislikes, he walked to my car.

The morning “jog,” as well as his feeling that he had restored order in the world, had him relaxed and happy.

People who don’t have kids with autism will say God gives special kids to special parents, that he gives them to strong parents.

In my case, a self-conscious mom was given a very visible kid who would be by her side for years.

It’s a good thing Mark is cute and I love him.

I tend to ask myself “Will I be able to laugh about this tomorrow?”

With this one, I will.