On this Friday night Elias and I fold laundry.

He grabs items out of the basket and hands them to me; but not before holding them close to his face, trying to see what’s in his hands.

“Here’s something fancy.” He hands me a tired white t-shirt I wear to bed.

“Thanks.”

“Is this mine?” He holds a pair of Nick’s work pants.

“Nope those are your Dad’s.” I fold Nick's Carhartts and put them on the top of the couch.

“Is this Olive’s long underwear?” Elias holds my old undies in both hands, stretching them, twirling them around a wrist.

I grab them from him. “I’ll take those.”

"Is this mine?" He holds up another pair of my underwear that mates with one of Nick's grey socks.

I reach my hand to his. "No, not yours." I find a matching sock in the basket and fold their tops together. I place the socks on the top of Nick's pile.

“This is a church shirt.” Elias says too softly for me to hear.

“What?”

He twists the soft top of my pink pajamas. “A church shirt.”

“I’m sorry,” I lean in close. “Say it again.”

“A shirt you’d wear to church, in Palmer, with Grandma and Pop.”

Well, not exactly. A different kind of church.

Happy Friday Everyone!

Comments

[s.e.]

you write so beautifully. Nobody who isn't living that other journey of having a kid who isn't NT can understand how something so ordinary like folding laundry can be so bittersweet and painful too. I can't walk in your footsteps but I know that feeling. Today we decided not to order a fun sounding board game because our 16 year old would not be able to do it, there is multitasking and reading involved.

[Christy]

s.e., Thank you! Yes, the ordinary is often laced with complex feelings. We were at a friends house this weekend and I found myself so sad suddenly just watching how the typical boys played together... and then there was Elias. Thank you for understanding, we too curtail decisions based on Elias's needs and development.