This week marks eight years since the start of this blog. In all that time of writing about my autism awareness, acceptance, and appreciation, I’ve marveled at the leaps and bounds my son has jumped. He was five when I started and he’s 13 today. That’s a major difference.

I write a lot about the changes we’ve seen together. From his love of running off to bedtime issues to stealing food from the mouths of decadents, my non-verbal little man has conquered so many issues that used to consume my mind. I couldn’t be prouder of my boy.

When I talk about these changes, it’s easy to focus solely on long-term progress. Mentioning achievements like that gives the false impression that most of the big moments are now behind us and it takes eight years to truly see changes.

Sure, he might learn new skills like fancy fork work or putting on his shoes, but major understandings feel like they came along a while ago. The little pieces are still falling into place, but the big things are already put together…right?

Not really. Lucas is still taking giant steps and, much like earlier progress, you need to be conscious of them to not miss them. But growth isn’t just about new skills or habits. It’s also about emotional connections, and sometimes, the biggest changes happen in the moments we least expect. One of those moments made me reflect on something I wrote just a few years ago.

In 2020, I got divorced and, with that, came half a week without my kids. Every Wednesday, they return, and I triumphantly post a picture with Lucas (and his sister when she lets me) that I title “Reunion Wednesday” in my social media story. It’s a highlight for me and I look forward to seeing them every time. I miss my children when they’re not here.

Did Lucas miss me in return? Well, that was always hard to say. I didn’t actually know.

People would ask if he missed me when he was gone, though, much like when they asked me if he “knows about Santa” or if “he’s excited about his birthday”. In the same way I did with those questions, I offered a shrug and an explanation.

That explanation, as I wrote about in March of 2021 was that he doesn’t miss me…”in the traditional sense.”

And he didn’t. Just a month shy of ten years old, Lucas didn’t jump for joy when he saw me at school pick-up. In fact, he was struggling with transitions at the time, so some of those reunions were hellacious. Nothing ripped my heart out more than having to peel my son off the floor after seeing me for the first time in four days.

I’d march him to the car like an uncuffed inmate going to the chair. There was nothing in his initial reaction that made me feel he longed for me in the days gone by.

Even worse? By the time we were out of the view of his teachers, he was hugging and kissing me like he always does. It was as if no time went by and he just picked up from where he was a few days ago. I’d smile and say the same thing each time.

Thanks, buddy. But you gotta stop. They’re going to think I beat you.

The best I could hope for was a neutral greeting. This big return of dad was treated like nothing. Ho-hum. Here I am. Let’s go home.

Today, writing that out, I had to make the effort to remember what those miserable meet-ups were like because it’s not that way anymore. In fact, I can tell you that – yes, my son misses me when I’m not there.

Getting him today is a different experience. Sometimes, as I approach the open bus door, I hear him fussing over something in his seat behind the driver. The matron’s body blocking his view of me, I’ll call out.

Lucas! Look who it is!

I’ll see his little head start to peer out over the aide as she gets his bag from the floor. He stands straight up and comes trotting down the steps right into me for a big hug. It’s my favorite moment of my week.

He kisses and hugs like he used to, but the biggest difference is that initial smile I see. His face, when he sees me standing there, says a million words. He knows his dad is here, he registers that it’s been a while, and he’s happy.

That time thing has always been a question mark. Does Lucas understand the significance of days? Does he know that we plan things only for select times of the week? Does he know about weeks? Does he realize that every night when we go to sleep and wake up, it’s a new day on a calendar? Does he know we designate special days as “holidays” and that’s what we are celebrating when he gets cake and presents? To this day, I’m still trying to figure that all out.

It’s a mystery that I still wonder about, but little moments like this are helping me to understand the bigger picture of his understanding. I know, from that one expression on his face that he “gets” it. How much? I can’t tell you, but there’s definite aspects that he understands.

Looking at him looking at me from that open school bus door tells me so much more than a dictionary of words ever could. I see it in his eyes and feel it in my heart. We’ve crossed a major threshold for understanding – both his and mine.

For a parent like me, a milestone like this isn’t written in a book, but it should be. It should have its own chapter.