As Mother’s Day approaches I think about these moments, when different people, often strangers, unexpectedly touched my heart with words or gestures of acceptance, or even appreciation, of my son, who has autism:

I still remember how, 30 years ago, the secretary at the pediatrician’s office took my tiny but very energetic son into her arms. She noticed that I was not able to hold that wiggly creature on my lap any longer. Robert was so surprised that he calmed immediately, and we could see the doctor.

I remember how almost 20 years ago, Mrs. Scott, his teacher’s aide, was gently patting his cheeks, repeating, “It is OK, Robert. It is OK.” The approaching tsunami of a tantrum disappeared without a droplet of protest.

I remember, from just a year ago, the ladies working in a Polish deli calmly assuring Robert that everything was OK while simultaneously cleaning broken glass and spilled beet juice from the bottle that fell from the shelf when Robert tried to get another item behind it.

I remember the guide at the lighthouse in Truro giving Robert a high five.

I remember the hygienist taking Robert to clean his teeth and telling me that he can do just fine without me.

Because Robert doing fine without me is my biggest wish and the most needed blessing.

Maria Hrabowski