In the spirit of that, I'd like to share a mother's perspective on loving my autistic child.

I remember eye contact.

I remember holding his hand, as we walked together to join the "scary world out there".

I remember the day when he said I love you for the first time, and meant it.

I remember teaching him the difference between feeling scared and feeling excited.

I remember when toys became objects of play, and not just objects of sound.

I remember learning that black and white can be comforting, while grey is scary and unpredictable.

I remember when hugs became desirable and not avoided.

I remember when eating lunch at 12:01 became acceptable.

I remember watching the realization that letters made sounds... made words... made communication.

I remember when he finally realized he was brilliant.

I remember the first joke that didn't need to be explained.

I remember the giddy laugh that followed.

I remember the first joke he created.

I remember aching when I saw him eating alone.

I remember understanding his preference for solitude.

I remember panicking about age 3, 12, 19, 25, 36...99

I remember breathing and taking it one day at a time.... still.

I remember this gift, everyday, and for the rest of my life.