In Our Autistic Eyes

For me, the thing which lingers most in my mind, my memories, is the look in their eyes.
How can I describe to you what it is their eyes have told me? Eyes which have told me stories of buried pain, deeply blurred aches of long years of being relentle…

The Autistic Time Traveller

Aubrey felt the cool mist of the early fall breeze cross her neck. She’d bundled up before leaving her small apartment, taking the stairs down and out into the late morning of the city. With the wet sidewalk greeting her feet, she stopped for a small …

The Accidental Autistic

My first memory was holding the hand of my Grandmother Catherine at a train station in Chicago. The warmth of her hand stood in contrast with the chilly, rainy day. I remember the crunch of the rocks under my shoes as we stood together beside the tra…