I’ve been silent for a while, basking in the slower rhythms of late summer. We had another wonderful family vacation. Let’s see … what else … oh, yeah, Ryan started high school.

More on that to come. But something Ryan did the other day was enough to spur me to return to writing.

He and I were sitting at the kitchen table, working on his geometry homework together. The session was remarkable for what was unremarkable about it. Namely, Ryan was patient and focused. He didn’t rush. I didn’t have to grab the pencil from his hands. I was patient. I didn’t get frustrated with his rushing or lack of focus. We both did a really good job.

At one point, while I was working to confirm he had the right answer on a problem, I noticed him writing in a small notebook where Veronica had compiled a grocery list.

I asked him what he was writing. He showed me.

Veronica’s back has been bothering her for about a week. Her discomfort has been obvious, but I was still surprised to see the note Ryan left for her.

I know the “lack of empathy” thing among the autistic population has been debunked many, many times.

But what the hell. Let’s debunk it one more. Here is the note Ryan wrote for his mom: