I saw you.
I saw you grasping your son’s hand—he appeared to be around 11 or 12 years old. That was my first indication; most boys that age shy away from holding their mother’s hand in public.
I observed you scanning the hotel pool, carefully assessing for any potential triggers. You were searching for the ideal spot for your family—conveniently located near the exit and close to the water.
I noticed how you encouraged your son to enter the water, or at least to get as close as he could. With his hands pressed against his ears, he managed to sit at the edge with his feet submerged. I could see him squinting, but eventually, he began to relax. Although his hands stayed on his head for the most part, he occasionally flapped them in a moment of ease.
I watched as you, your partner, and your daughter submerged yourselves in the pool, forming a protective barrier around him. All of you were smiling, yet I could see you, Mom, still vigilant and scanning the surroundings.
I offered you a warm smile—I recognize my fellow parents. I wanted to swim over, give you a fist bump, or maybe even a high-five. But I had my own son to keep an eye on. Besides, I’ve never quite figured out the perfect icebreaker when I see another family navigating autism. “Do you come here often?” doesn’t have the right ring to it. I could only hope you understood my smile was genuine, meant to acknowledge you, not filled with pity.
The next morning at breakfast, I spotted you again. You were “opening the joint,” as we often do. I smiled and wished your family a good morning. I heard your son’s anxious voice asking, “What time is it?” and your husband’s weary response, “It’s vacation. Time doesn’t matter.” I caught your sigh—you understood the importance of time, but you also recognized your husband’s desire to maintain peace.
I hope your vacation was enjoyable. It may not have been the typical getaway others might relish, but for your family, it was special. I wish I could have expressed how comforting it was to see someone like you amidst the sea of “typical” families. Just your presence made me feel less isolated. Perhaps we could have shared a laugh over a joke only we would understand. Maybe somehow you’ll come across this and realize you weren’t alone in that resort while navigating life with autism. I hope we encounter more families like ours wherever we go, offering support and camaraderie, sharing smiles, and understanding.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the shared experiences of a mother observing another family navigating life with autism at a pool. The narrative captures the emotions of understanding and connection among parents of children with special needs, highlighting the importance of support and community.