The Love Note

I could sense her curiosity. No judgement, no condemnation, but her curiosity was palpable. She had no idea of years past. Of years in churches when I was determined my autistic son would worship with me, yet services would find me consoling him, entertaining him, and on the floor in back rows doing compression exercises and brush therapy. 

She didn't know how far we've come. She merely knew we were sitting next to her in church. She surreptioulsy watched as I held Robert's hands to keep him from picking his skin, or kept my hand on his knee to keep him from jiggling his leg. We may have been a quiet distraction from her worship, but I felt no censure. Still, in the hopes of acceptance, I felt compelled to write her a note. My note is below, as is hers. This is the best love note I've received in a long while...