The second I say, “My kid isn’t a runner,” is the second he runs into the Atlantic Ocean.
I don’t have a choice. I must, so I just do.
Today, he’s the perfect version of himself that he can be.
Kids don’t need words. They just need love.
This is the first time they are seeing him.
I went from difficult denial to overwhelming acceptance.
It’s my duty to make him feel heard, even if he never says a single word.
He has to know that I believe in him.
He’s always showing me that he is processing things in his own way.