Connection

If I’d blinked I would have missed it.

As it was I heard my husband frantically calling my name, and I raced into my eldest son’s bedroom, wondering what calamity had befallen us now.

When my husband uses “that” tone, it’s usually a calamity.

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I rushed in to find this tableau spread out before me- my severely autistic teenager sitting on his bed, grasping my mildly autistic 10-years-old’s arms, smiling and gazing up in adoration as his little brother towered over him.

I stop, hold my breath, and wait to see what will unfold.

I watch as my eldest child, who never really interacts with my youngest child, stands and bestows the sweetest of kisses on his sibling’s lips.

I smile in turn as I watch my youngest break into a huge grin and let out an “awwww,” clearly thrilled by the encounter.

I grin through eyes welling up, thinking of the hundreds of times I’ve tried to contrive this scenario, forge a connection between the two, let my youngest know his brother loves him.

And I realize, that love is there. It’s been there all the time. Justin may not show his bond the way we typical folks do, but he feels it too.

Tonight, he’s shown he loves his brother. He’s made him feel seen.

And I admonish myself for ever doubting this, for being sad that my youngest has asked if his brother loves him, for not being able to give him tangible proof that he does.

Tonight, there is proof. There is a connection strengthened. There is one son’s awe, and another’s delight.

And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

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