The Walk Of Wednesday

Our autism journey

Lynn Browder
Sep 5, 2018 · 2 min read

Sometimes I forget exactly how much the gift of life is. Sure, I say my prayers, and I’m thankful, but I truly forget how precious every moment is until it’s different. The gift of walking is a gift for me. Every doctor has there way of looking at the evidence in front of them, and with the technology they have, explain what may, or may not happen to you. Mine is walking, and my bigger gift is Owen. In my twenties the doctors told me they didn’t think I would walk in my forties without more surgeries, and they didn’t know if I would be able to carry a child, but who truly knows the answers to those questions. Doctors told me Owen probably wouldn’t talk, not only does he talk, but he screams his answers, sometimes. Life can be messy, but beauty is there if we choose to see it. I try not to have the “woah is me” attitude, it does creep in though. Today I ran again for the first time. I should probably describe it more like the hobbling pirate, about to walk the plank, but I finished a block. Then I cried. At that point I was walking past the building Owen loves. He always reaches out to it as we would walk by. He loves the textures of the bricks, wanting to run his hand over the edges. He screams with delight. My emotions were caught up in that wall of bricks. When Owen woke this morning, he got the day right. “Wanna milk it’s Wednesday”, he said. At that particular moment two thoughts crashed at the same time, “hallelujah”, and “it’s nighttime”. I stated the latter. At this point I looked at the clock. It was five, technically it was close enough to get up. He went on, repeating his teacher’s name, church, bowling, “let’s go to the coffee shop today”, and then he said it, the days of the week, only leaving out one. “Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Saturday”, saying each day in his tiny little voice, with his pronunciation. Those days of the week hit me when I was walking. My son has come so incredibly far. Those little victories are what I cherish. Sometimes I forget where we have come from, sometimes I forget that life is hard, and here we are making it. Cherish your victories, no matter how small they are. Believe in miracles, dream big, and make a plan to succeed. You can do it. Smiles to all and donut daze!

Lynn Browder

I am on a mission to spread autism awareness, compassion, love and understanding. I have a five year old son, Owen who has autism. Love music and comedy.

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