Autism: Transitions

Nothing endures but change
~Heraclitus

I first read the words written above in Coach Tim George’s history class circa 1980. Even though he was a coach, he had the reputation of being one of the toughest teachers in school. My freshman heart thumped as I watched him stroll into class on an oppressively hot August day. What would this horrible man do to my GPA? The window units hummed furiously, attempting to ward off the Texas heat. Without a word, he walked directly to the chalk board and scrawled this quote across the dusty green surface:

Nothing endures but change

It was a moment I will never forget.

Because I somehow I knew it was the truth.

Now mind you, I’m not one of those who remember every detail of my educational experience. My beloved husband Andy can still quote Macbeth and Hamlet and Wordsworth. The laws of physics and trigonometry are still easily accessed by his weirdly brilliant computer of a brain.

It possesses total recall….

Mine, not so much. Somewhere along the way, I grew distracted. I lived in the moment of morning sickness and tax returns and coffee and rush hour traffic and dirty diapers…

And autism.

Over the years, I’ve experienced the inevitable brain dump.

“Go ask your dad…” I mumble, over and over.

How did this happen?

Nothing endures but change.

This. This sunk in.

I didn’t lose it. Because, by God, I used it.

And now it’s late August. September is right around the corner. And I find myself thinking about change, wondering where it will take us next.

The months of August and September for some reason are the months of change for our family. Amy was born in August, Jack in September. We moved from Atlanta to Baltimore in September. From Baltimore to Chicago in September. From Chicago to Dallas in August… And finally, from Dallas to Boston in August.

We’ve been here a year now. And I find myself looking around. Assessing our situation. Peering down the road, hoping for a just a glimpse around the corner.

But of course I can’t see a thing.

So I drink in the beauty of my sleeping babies, tangled up in the covers of Jack’s big boy bed.

Amy starts third grade soon. She’ll be standing at the end of our driveway, waiting for the bus in a matter of days. She’s already chattering about the MCAS and obsessing over her class list, e-mailing back and forth with her teacher. Her pencils are sharpened. She's ready to go.

Jack has a fresh battery of appointments and evaluations to get through. Expert neuropsychs and educators will attempt to identify the change in him. Assess the progress.

Fine tune.

As for me, I lace up my running shoes and crank up my iPod. I kiss my sleeping husband as I rise with the sun. I look in the mirror and see a woman in her forties looking back.

How and just when did this happen?

I sip my coffee.

And thank God for the constants.

To Coach George and Heraclitus I would say this: You almost got it right.

Nothing endures but change …

With one beautiful exception:

Love.

Thank God for the Love...