To That Mom At The Rest Stop

I saw your little boy’s feet first. Under the metal side panel of the restroom stall. I noticed him because my little boy’s feet were on my side.
I heard him go to wash his hands and I soon followed with my own son.

The first thing I noticed was his delightful red hair and wide eyes. While I helped my little blonde wash his hands I saw you keep a restraining hand on your own child’s arm.
There was an aura about you that seemed familiar and when I looked a bit closer …from the corner of my eye…I saw the comfy thick sweat pants and uncomplicated soft tshirt on your child. No coat even if it was cold outside.

I headed to dry my hands and you had already cranked out paper towels for me. Plenty of them. Before I could stop my own son he had thrust his hands into the super sonic loud hand dryer and at the same time I heard your child start squealing and jumping and I heard you say ” I know. You don’t Like that noise.”

I grabbed my own son and the terrifying noise stopped and so did your sons squeals.

I turned to face you and saw in your eyes the exhaustion and pain and constant battle of life and I knew your child was extra special.
I apologized for the loud noise and said I understood and above my own child’s crying at having to stop the dryer I wanted to tell you to keep on.

To keep choosing comfort for your son over cute jeans. To choose a dash in a tshirt through the cold over the battle of a coat and its textures that cause meltdowns. To keep using your two word instructions like “hands up” instead of my long ” don’t touch the toilet ring please.” To keep cranking out towels for people in hopes they won’t use the super sonic dryer.

I didn’t ask you but I think I know because I have done bathroom marathons before in slightly different situations.

Your beautiful son is autistic.
And you are doing a wonderful job!

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4 thoughts on “To That Mom At The Rest Stop

  1. This is one of my favorite “open letter” blogs ever. Your heart is absolutely beautiful. I’m sure the Mom at the rest stop could feel it’s understanding and compassion. Love you!

  2. I have a brother that’s a ‘Wildflower,’ too, and I instantly love people who are kind to him, never afraid to meet him on his level, willing to acknowledge him without being so hatefully awkward. (My Mom says she loved the amazing guy that is now my husband before she ever knew he was interested in me, for this very reason:) What a great story. It’s beautiful to be changed by such dear little people. Thanks to Kierra’s life, your were able to touch that Mom at the rest stop, as well as me. I’m glad Kierra will be there to meet my brother, Joey, at the Gates. It may be soon.

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