This morning I found a pile of vegetable peels on the counter. John stayed up late making soup, and the discarded wrappings of onions and broccoli stalks were left behind. I slid them into the compost, and peeked into the pot. It was only breakfast time, and I had to rush off but I trusted that the soup will taste good for supper. 

 

Most days I see Benjamin for what he is. Yet as is the case with anything as multi faceted as a human being, other times the view is different. The screen saver that flips though images of our family shows him riding atop his brother's shoulders (the one he is as tall as now). It reminds me of the littler version. Pictures of Ben before the diagnosis take me back to those nebulous years before we Knew. Snapshots of him swimming in a life jacket remind me of the fierce effort to protect him before he could tread water.

 

This morning his profile struck me as handsome. Poised. He was not engaged in yelling or stimming, and I felt like I was looking past now into who he will be. Not in a hurry up and get there kind of way, but like a prophecy. 

 

It is my core belief that the incarnation of Benjamin that will arrive once autism comes up against its expiration date is a man I will be blessed to know. The knowledge is not tinged with impatience, but rather anticipation. It's like my sentiments about Christmas. I look forward to it, but have no desire to truncate the calendar. Or the emotions around a birth. Please, please, come... but not early. When you are ripe. 

 

Most of us have trappings that will be shed at heaven's gate. Annoying, even heinous tendencies that render us handicapped. Yet today is not a disappointing version of tomorrow, but rather a wondrous chance to by buoyed up until our own legs are strong enough to swim.