Silent Celebration

I turn around and you are gone.

I begin to look around, sure that you had left, that you had had enough.

Scanning the crowd, I suddenly spot your curly mop.

You are not making a beeline toward the door to escape the thing you hate.


With a lump in my throat, and a warmth in my cheeks, I see that you are part of the circle.

Of people.

I feel the prickle of a tear rising up, along with pride in my mother’s heart, as I realize you have chosen it.

A thing you never choose—to be part of a crowd.

You are talking.


Smiling. Laughing.

Curiously, you look at ease there. An ease I never imagined to see.

Can you know how proud I am of you at this moment? Can you know how much I love you?

Others, for whom this mystery called “social interaction” comes so naturally, can’t possibly begin to understand why this is such a sweet celebration.

But I know. I see. I smile to myself and swallow the lump.

And I sit back, in my silent celebration, whisper a prayer of thanks, and watch you blossom.



Filed under Autism Days, Poetry

2 responses to “Silent Celebration

  1. Pingback: Change is good. Days 11 & 12 | red van ramblings

  2. Pingback: Poetry Jag | red van ramblings

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