We went on a holiday last week. This one week, away from our children, has become a welcome rhythm for the last 10 or so years.  Nothing has ever happened while we’ve been gone and I’m glad to say we’re home again and still nothing has gone wrong (that hopefully releases any tension you may be feeling).

But on the first day of our trip, when we were just getting a cup of coffee at a quaint little shop and preparing to sit in the sunshine, we got a call.  Emma had not arrived back from school on her bus…and the phone calls were flying.  Like I said – everything is fine now, was always fine, but the squall of emotions needed a place to harbour.  A poem is a good harbour.

Best Case

I couldn’t control
the crazy thoughts:
that you would wander away,
that someone would take you,
and especially not the dark details –
so I followed my feelings
holding you
as you sat on the front step, because
that’s where I thought you’d be,
that’s what I thought you’d do.

Guiltily, I couldn’t help wondering
what you’d be thinking,
the doors locked and nobody there
to cheer you into the house
like we do to make you smile –
we regretted our trip then, I can tell you that!
(some red thoughts broke through too
to punish my careless planning
and daggers for the bus driver
who left you there and didn’t linger)

But I had to pull them back,
refuse them purchase (this too is prayer),
for the time it took Susan to race to the house —
while we sat staring at our phones for news —
until she found you sitting on the front step
exactly where my thoughts held you.

And then the damned up dark thoughts broke
and washed over us
weak and powerless
because you just sat and waited.

© 2018 – Laurel Archer

Then thing is, it’s hard not to keep thinking about this.  I can’t test my theories, run experiments on my non-verbal children with autism to see what would happen if…  Emma wasn’t scared, not even that bothered by what happened.  I will never know what she felt or thought about the incident — this too is what being the parent of a non-verbal child with autism is like.  There are many things unknown, undefined, unexplained and  I can’t really rely on this ‘win’ for bringing insight into whatever new situation might arise – a scientist might be able to do that, but not this mom.  But, as difficult as this was for the short period of time that it had to be lived through, I will tell you that it makes me feel good to know that I knew what Emma would do in that moment.  Feelings, accumulated emotions, gathered and organized by years and yearnings are a mom’s ‘raw data’ to cast a hypothesis and hold onto it with hope.

Peace.