Rain's Gifts

The rain fell.
Leaving behind slippery walks
muddy ground
and puddles.

I walk carefully on the concrete walk
hoping beyond all else
that I may not slip and fall.
Slick it is, and grace
is not in my realm of being.

My son, sees not the danger in falling
the possibility of hurting himself
nor the humiliation of the event.
The idea of walking around
with a wet smudge on the backside
of his britches is not one of embarrassment
but instead a badge of honor.

He slides... as far as he can,
holding tightly to my arm
with both his small hands
giddily giggling as we go.
In painful slow motion I watch
down he goes
I grab for him
trying to cushion his fall.
His belly laughs befall us
as my heart lingers in my throat.
Up he goes
to his feet
to try it again.

Puddles appear in front of us.
Sloshing is not in his mind.
The glistening of the sun
peeking out behind a cloud
amuses him most
as reflections dance on the surface.
Visions of color and rainbows capture him;
he moves in and out to see new shades
and shapes appear in the puddle.
He smiles at the glistening of the water.

Onward we trod
each step taking us closer
to the destination I had in my mind.
Not so much the one he was envisioning.
I see it... and can only sigh
I know what is coming.
He is running now,
full speed ahead...
Mud.

Does he jump? No. He doesn't.
I would have expected one of the other boys...
actually, all of the three older boys
and even perhaps one of his sisters,
to jump in and drench their jeans and shoes.
This child, surprizes me.
He did not jump.
He squats, and runs a hand through the silt
feeling the grit and the smoothness
running it through his fingers
looking it over and over
front and back of his hand
only to stick his hand back in it and emphatically
remark... "EWWWWWW!!!"

I look at him with surprise.
Ewwww? I wonder what he is thinking.
He giggles and in two words makes all things clear
"Peanut Butter."
A curiosity envelops me
and I join him.
Running one hand into the mud
feeling the slippery mud
pulling my hand carefully up,
letting the grit and the smoothness
run through my fingers.
He is right,
indeed, it is peanut butter.

I smile at him as I take him by the clean hand
words are not neccessary
as we have learned his direction
is easily diverted .
We go inside and wash up.

I reflect at this short journey.
One taking a mere 10 minutes of my day;
one he will not be able to tell daddy about later...
the limitations of his Autism
will indeed make sure of that.
A moment in time, shared with only me....
Forever locked away in his mind,
Forever cherished in my heart.

My Two Cents

I suppose my two cents wouldn't get very far in this day and age, if it was of any monetary worth. Since it isn't, I can only hope that someday, perhaps not all that far in the future, my two cents will ring in the ears of my children and help them find their way through various life situations. I may not be a scholar. I don't pretend I could even compare to the great writers or philosphers of ther world. But... I am a mother, with more expertise in life with children than any William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, or even Dr Spock! Who better knows the inner workings of a childs mind, their habits, their needs... than a mother? After all, I have been there for every scrape, scratch, stitch, bump, bruise, fever, heartache, heartbreak, accomplishment or failure, milestone, leaps and bounds.

I can see my daughter muttering to herself, "I cant believe I just said that!" as she uses one of my old cliches. I also believe that day will come for both my girls when they would swear they opened their mouths and my voice came out! I have done this myself, hearing my own mothers voice. As for my sons... Inevitably they will hear my obnoxious tone reverberating off the walls of their skulls. Sadly for them, they will have their own wives to contend with and her mothers two cents as well.

Two cents... not worth much... but priceless all the same.