Autistic Am I

 When I was a boy ,  When I was a boy, 5 or 6 years old , My mother had an allergic reaction to penicillin. She had large welps rise up all over her body. She was very sick but didn’t want to go the hospital at 1st. I felt so helpless . My momma was sick and there wasn’t much I could. I got a bowl of water and a wash cloth. I would dip the cloth in the water , ring it out and lightly rub her welps and face. This seemed to my young mind to give her some relief. This week I stood by my mother’s bed in her last hours . My momma was sick and there wasn’t much I could do. I caressed her hair lightly just like I did when I was a boy and for that moment in time I was that boy again. The man I am knows this is the way God intended our life here on earth to be. One day my children will bury me, but the little boy in me will always miss his momma.

 I’ve been thinking about life a lot lately. My mother is at the end of hers. Too many ailments to list , she’s 82 years old so it would seem that old age is the cause. I’ve been reflecting on my relationship with her , as well as all the other relationships in my life. Everything about me is reflected through a lense of autism, because I’m autistic . This can’t be that much different than the lense all peoples experiences are reflected through. On my journey of understanding myself and how autism has affected my life I have made declarations and statements that must seem so absolute to the reader, as was my intention. I’m not thinking in absolute terms right now. I’m thinking more compassionately and with more open mindedness. All the reasons I have  seen and reported from my past ,weird , unconventional life have lost a lot of their gravity on my psyche. At the end of our time here what does the why of it all really matter? Maybe it doesn’t or shouldn’t.  Maybe the love...