scribblechic

Friday morning I said goodbye to my daughter at the front of her school. As I watched my little girl walk toward a classmate I noted one of my friends and started to find my way to her side to say hello. I love these borrowed moments, casual conversations that tumble in my path like lucky pennies. On this morning I suddenly hesitated; moving against my normal rhythm I shifted direction heading away from a quick hello toward my first task. In the space between walking away from my friend and beginning my errand I repeatedly questioned my decision. I could not have explained, if asked, why I had forgone this beloved morning routine for an often dreaded task.

Arriving at the grocery store I recognized the stranger walking toward me, another happy accident. Two months earlier I had watched this same woman with her young son and known immediately the familiarity of her story, I recognized the unconditional love between a beautiful Autistic child and a woman mothering with hope and patience. The barista serving the woman on that day had said a warm goodbye to the mother and child, then turned to help me. We casually slipped into a conversation about my child as she handed me my morning indulgence. The barista had met my son and without judgment or pity asked quite simply if my child were Autistic. In the months since, this stranger in a green apron serving custom coffee became a lovely introduction to a beautiful conversation that was yet to happen with a mother who shares my experiences parenting a child on the Autism Spectrum.

On the Friday I traded a playground conversation for a trip to the grocery store this mother, who without words grounded me in memories of days long past with my son, was standing just inside the storefront. Leaving as I was coming, this moment was so fleeting I had almost missed it entirely. We exchanged names and spoke for a spell about the young boys for whom so much of our thoughts, fears, and hopes stir uncertainty.

Two days have passed and this chance encounter is never far from my mind. This stranger with the sweet boy so much like my son reminded me not only of the joys I have known as a mother, but of the rewarding experience of creating new experiences working against the grain with a child whose needs create so many opportunities for self growth. I was also reminded of the amazing souls whose stories have woven themselves into the fabric of my life in chance encounters; casual hellos that grew into lifelong friendships.

The high school friend that was always there, but one day became the singular friend I would miss dearly until the day we realized we were practically neighbors a state away from where we began. The college neighbor that now lives hours away, but with whom I share an unbroken conversation. The woman I met in my earliest days as a mother who shares so many memories of our boys as playmates. A kindergarten mother who guided me through the earliest heartache and acceptance of my son’s diagnoses. A neighbor I didn’t know was a friend just waiting to be found at a pool rather than down the street. A woman I met over the phone when my body was heavy with my second child and hers full with the promise of her first born, each of us restricted to bed rest. A teacher who knew my son first as an infant and later as a pupil, but whom always hugs me and inspires me with the affection of a mother.

The list is unending. There are beautiful souls I have met sitting in waiting rooms at various doctor’s offices and therapy sessions, playgrounds and school events. This new mother, a bright star in a constellation of warmth. We were drawn together by chance, strangers who recognized a common challenge and mother’s love. When I count my blessings it seems there is a greater architect who guides me with friendship to reach my greatest potential as a woman, wife, mother, and friend. Call this faith or fate, my life is richer for the kind, compassionate, wise voices whom I call friends.