Category: The Kid

The tran­si­tion into high school has been tough for my son. I feel com­pe­tent to han­dle just about any sit­u­a­tion involv­ing him except when a sit­u­a­tion occurs and I can’t talk to or see him. In these cas­es, frus­tra­tion is hav­ing the pow­er to resolve con­flict and help my son, but not being allowed to use it.

So I took a long walk, and toward the end of it, at dusk, passed by a group of chil­dren play­ing. One of them imme­di­ate­ly drift­ed off and fell into step beside me — a young man prob­a­bly around 13 or 14. He said “I’m ready to go home.” and I said, “Me, too, kid.” He then ten­ta­tive­ly said “Dad?” to me a cou­ple times, and we made eye con­tact. I gen­tly said, “I’m not your dad” and he looked a bit off guard and said “Oh.” One of the oth­er kids said “that’s a neigh­bor, not your dad, don’t talk to him!” and the young man drift­ed back to the rest of the group.

The ener­gy I was pour­ing into wor­ry­ing about my autis­tic teenag­er drew anoth­er one to me. He also need­ed com­fort, and, as much as I want­ed to, I could­n’t pro­vide it to him either. He voiced what I assume my child also need­ed that day. To be home with dad.