The empty boat trailer at the top of our driveway was clearly a huge temptation to the boy walking down the gravel road.  He was a big kid, but his mannerisms drew my attention immediately.  It looked like he was on a walk with a caregiver (most likely his dad), checking out the views of the surrounding lake, pine trees, and the occasional osprey.  He veered off the side of the road and climbed right on the empty frame.  It was bouncy and oddly shaped, so of course it was fun to play on.  The man who was looking after him noticed us watching from the cabin and he seemed embarrassed.  He pulled the boy off and kept a tight grip on his hand while they walked away.  The following day the same thing happened, but this time, my dad caught him off guard.  

“Does your son have autism?” my dad unabashedly asked.  

I held my breath.  

Depending on the stranger’s response, this social encounter could be interesting, or, you know, pretty bad.  

“Yes.”

Phew.  Glad we got that out of the way.  Now it was my turn to be bold.

I told him that we have a lot in common, and that his son was welcome to bounce on the boat trailer, use our trampoline, and swing on our swingset.  I encouraged him to come over anytime.  The stranger seemed a little shy and uncertain, and he didn’t seem all that interested in chatting, but his son was definitely interested in the boat trailer.  And I’m sure my excitement was overwhelming and maybe a little weird.  We were, after all, at a cabin on a lake in the Northwest, and we had been feeling pretty off the map.  To find another parent that was out for a walk around the lake with his austistic child seemed to beat all the odds.  

We connected with our new friends a few more times that summer and then went our separate ways the rest of the year.  This past summer we ran into them again.  They were, of course, out on another walk.  This time the father/son duo stayed and hung out for a few hours.  They came back the following day as well.  During one of our chats, the dad looked at me and asked, “do you ever get frustrated?” 

Is the Pope Catholic?  Does James Brown get down? “Absolutely.”  I was happy that he finally felt comfortable enough with us to reach this uncharted territory.  We had a good conversation about the challenges that are unique to us.  During our chat, it became obvious to us that even in the world of autism, where kids’ behaviors can vary greatly on a huge spectrum, our boys had a lot in common.  Meanwhile, his son enjoyed eating oreos, playing with a pool noodle, and generally making himself comfortable with all the sensory opportunities a lake house has to offer.  I’m excited we get to see our friends again this summer and be able to connect on that level again.  

Our brains crave deep connection with other humans (as we are often reminded from the outpouring of responses to isolation).  It is one of our basic needs.  Even Albert Einstein mused how empty his life would feel if he didn’t have like minded people to connect with.  This concept is especially true for parents of special needs children.  We all need to know that we are rooting for the same team.  We are rooting for each other.  We are rooting for our kids.  We need to not be afraid to say “hi” to a special needs parent at a grocery store or out on a walk or wherever you happen to see them.  Offer to help.  Tell them good job.  Or just tell them you’ve been there and you appreciate all they are doing.  It means SO MUCH. 

Don’t be afraid of appearing weird or brazen.  Whenever someone is brave enough to stop me and ask about my special needs son, I’m usually so touched that I tear up.  Maybe you tear up too.  We tear up because we feel passionate about our kids.  We work so hard for them, we are always exhausted, and we love them intensely.  That’s why we cry.  

After all the isolation we’ve experienced in the past few years, let’s make a concerted effort to connect with others this year.  Just like air, water, and food, we need it!  And please connect with us!  As always, we’d love to hear from you.