Autism is my World; Not Yours

‘I should have waved back. I’m sorry.’

‘I should have waved back. I’m sorry.’

She said it apologetically. She was young. Her hair had blue stripes in it. Braces still on her teeth.

At her age, no older than 16, I honestly didn’t expect her to wave back.

My name is Kate, and my son Cooper is autistic. If you met him in a drive thru, like this young lady did today, you’d probably assume he’s a typical boy.

He has blonde hair. His t-shirt is from old navy. He has checkered slip-on vans on his feet. He is tall. In some ways he maybe looks the same age as her.

But if you look closer, you will notice how his fingers dance in the sunlight in front of his face. The constant flick of his wrist. The rubbing of his pointer finger and thumb, moving something imaginary in a ball. Constantly. Always moving. Always making sound. But I would never expect anyone to notice that.

Autism is my world. Not yours.

When we pulled up today to get our food, he did what he always does. He waved hugely and happily. He leaned over. What the girl didn’t see or know is how excited he was as we made our way to her.

He waits to wave. It’s his favorite.

The girl didn’t respond. She was busy, I could see that. But she did notice him. The big boy waving. She looked confused. Nervous. Maybe even a bit embarrassed by his excitement.

It was quiet for a second and then she asked…

‘Was he waving to me?’

I smiled and gently said yes. ‘His name is Cooper, and he is autistic, and he loves waving.’

I put my car in drive, ready to go, our interaction seemingly over.

But instead, she said…

‘I should have waved back. I’m sorry. Can he do it again? I’ll wave this time.’

My heart melted. See, often as I step deeper into this world of parenting disability, I am saddened. I see things. I feel things. And my heart hardens a bit each time.

But today, I was reminded of the good.

‘Cooper, do you want to wave again?’

You wouldn’t believe the gasp. And the smile.

Back in park I went. And she took 15 seconds out of her busy day to wave.

He squealed with joy, smiling so huge. And he waved.

And she waved back.

There is good. So much good. You just have to look for it.

Thank you for stopping by our little corner of the internet.

If this story touched you, please share it. And for more stories like this one, grab a copy of my book, Forever Boy: A Mother’s Memoir of Autism and Finding Joy.