Going Home

I was suppose to be on the first plane out of Aspen this morning.  Which meant, if all went well, I would be on an 8:30AM flight out of Denver heading back to New York.  Barring any unforeseen delays I might even have gotten home before my children returned from their various summer activities.  To say, I was excited to see them this afternoon would be an understatement.  And that doesn’t include the excitement I feel in anticipation of seeing my husband, Richard who has single handedly shuttled one child or the other to camp, picked up said child, taken Emma to the doctor for her ongoing ear problems, dealt with all the daily problems that inevitably arise in caring for a family and home, fed both children, fed Merlin (our adored cat), watered my orchids, done the laundry, the grocery shopping, and did I mention he also managed to work?  Can I just say here that he is a man of all men?  Put the guy on a pedestal and allow me to genuflect.

As it turns out, I will not be on that first flight out of Aspen, nor on any flight leaving Aspen today.  In fact I cannot get a flight out until tomorrow.  I received the fateful call at around 11:30PM last night and my heart sank the minute I heard the phone ring.  I then called United to rebook my cancelled flight only to be told there was not a single seat anywhere that would eventually get me to New York.  So tomorrow I will (hopefully) be home and able to finally see my husband and children.

It will be interesting to see Emma.  Will I see progress?  I do not expect her to greet me with more than a passing – Hi Mommy!  She can be pretty casual about seeing one of us again, even if it’s been awhile.  It’s hard not to assume that means she doesn’t care or didn’t miss the person.  I think of it as more an expression of her autism than any suggestion of disregard.  I know a mother of a child with autism who hates when people label her child “autistic”.  She said – if someone has cancer, I don’t say, oh they are cancer.  My child is so much more than “autistic.”  Similarly Emma is not autism.  Emma is a little girl who has a series of neurological irregularities, which make her behave in a way that we call “autism”.  And it’s that wonderful little girl, my little Em, who happens to have been diagnosed with autism, whom I cannot wait to see.

Just one more day and a few thousand miles, before I can come home.

For more on Emma’s and our journey through her childhood of autism, go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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