This Tangerine Sky

A nightclub in Miami.

It’s the last place I expected to see you.

My friends and I stand in the corner, bobbing our heads to the music. A few of us glance surreptitiously at our watches. It’s day two of a weekend away to celebrate a 50^th birthday and though we are game for a little adventure, the evening is nearly over. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch you walk in the door. You are with a group. Friends, perhaps. At the very least, your peers.

Yet they keep you in the middle. The arrangement catches my eye. It’s as though they are protecting you somehow. 

You remind me of him.

My son.

For nearly twenty years, I’ve been looking for you. 

Ever since a little boy crashed into a filing cabinet. My little boy. 

In the middle of a tiny exam room, he whirled and spun until the sharp metal corner bit his knee. He shrieked and fell to the floor. When I knelt and tried to gather him in my arms, he twisted his body away from me. 

Watching the scene unfold, the kindly doctor said the words I’d been holding my breath to hear. Autism Spectrum Disorder. He had no choice. 

Since that day, I have longed to glimpse a future version of him.

You.

I watch you flick your fingers lightly. You shift from one foot to the other.

A grown-up with autism. A unicorn of sorts. 

I don’t know for sure, of course. But life alongside the spectrum bell curve has given me a certain sense. 

Often, people want to hold my hand. But what if it’s my foot that hurts?

My friends and I decide to stay for a few more songs. From across the crowded room, I see you start to dance. Your eyes are closed. Lost to the rhythm, you move with abandon. People turn and stare. I feel a familiar pit in my stomach.

Autism. 

It started with the corner of a filing cabinet.

The middle has been a tangerine sky full of worry, hope, puberty, meltdowns, shame, and the fiercest kind of love. 

How does it end?

I am running out of time. I have failed him in more ways than I can count. 

Right now, the future is made up of too many loose ends. I long for knots – something solid to hold between my palms.

Do you work?

Where do you live?

Are you happy?

Have you ever been in love?

Autism.

The world sees flicking fingers, screams in the nighttime, eyes downcast. 

I see a little boy holding his knee.

I see possibility. 

There is no version of this life that doesn’t require compromise.

I believe in second chances, and smiles of goodwill, and a most beautiful unicorn.

I believe because I have to believe. I have no other choice. 

I have no other choice because one day I will die. And my son will be left to navigate this world without me. 

This is me, small and afraid. 

For now, I live bravely. 

Bravely, I live.

I have no choice but to look to the tangerine sky and search for the sun instead of storms.

I hear notes of music and listen for birds gone free.

I’ve been looking for you. 

How does this all turn out?

I’ve never seen him dance, not even once.