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I began to panic, but it was gone just as quick as it began. 
I listend to there mumbo jumbo, while inside there words made me laugh, 
the irony that i needed these people to do nothing more, 
then repeat what I had just spent four days reading before. 
I remember feeling anger, these people where talking about my child! 
! 
When they where done, they shook our hands, 
telling us both it would be ok, 
Did they expect me to believe them? 

The ride home was better, then what had been worse just hours before, 
I could tell we both needed to cry, and not that I could see, 
if she did, because all I could do was stair into nothing. 

I know I was being selfish not telling her we would get through this, 
I guess because I needed someone to tell me, 
but neither of us spoke the words. 
And again I wonderd why I couldnt cry. 

The night passed on, most of which I cant remember, 
about two a.m. everyone was in bed, 
I grabbed the envelope that they had given us, 
it was so heavy from the papers, 
how could this be when hes only three? 

I rolled my joint, and ran some water, 
wishing that man had something simular, 
like the girly stuff calgon take me away. 

I lit my joint and started to read, 
and not long before I realized, 
that everything they are saying that makes you autistic, 
is everything I love most about you. 

And finely I cryed, I just couldnt stop, 
tho im sure I didnt want to, 
so into this emotion I gave in. 

I cryed and cryed, for two hours 
I just .....let go, 
all by myself inside that tub. 

And in a calming way, I felt older 
and strangly healed, my perspective had changed. 
for the first time I believed it was going to be ok. 

Simply just by being proud, that my son is autistic, 
gave me a strength i never knew I had. 
And again I wonderd if Kim had felt this way, 
and I realized what I had lost. 

And I had to ask, 
Is this what it means to grow up?
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